


The Beat of Our Hearts

by kiwigirl



Series: Speak Now (the Words on My Skin) [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff, Songfic, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, WinterShock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:43:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 55
Words: 68,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwigirl/pseuds/kiwigirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Different ways that soulmates Darcy Lewis and James Barnes meet to the sound of my Spotify playlist</p><p>AU where the first words your soulmate says to you are written on you somewhere, and, while visible to all, are only readable by the person on which they are written until they are spoken</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [write love on my skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835587) by [amusewithaview](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusewithaview/pseuds/amusewithaview). 
  * Inspired by [Breaking (Saving) You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2425625) by [Rainne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainne/pseuds/Rainne). 



> This was going to be one of those Darcy-centric Soulmate AUs with heaps of different pairings like [amusewithaview ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/amusewithaview) started, but thanks to [Rainne](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainne), these two kept popping up together until I decided to do lots of different ways that the two of them meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on Perfect by One Direction, from the album Made in the AM

Darcy hated these parties. Reed Richards insisted on everyone dressing up, she knew nobody but the Scientists Three, and once people realized she exactly zero influence, scientific knowledge, and/or money, conversations tailed off very fast. The only ones who kept talking seemed unable to look her in the eye. It was enough to make a good girl start tossing back champagne. Or, as was the case tonight, park herself beside the buffet, stuffing her face and people-watching.

Across the room, another figure stood apart from the crowd of scientists, patrons, and poseurs. She couldn’t make out any features, but the posture screamed “leave me alone” louder than words. People would approach, and be firmly rebuffed. Some of the drunker women, and some men, tried for longer, but none managed to engage him in conversation for long.

Curious, and emboldened by the champagne, Darcy grabbed a plate of canapés and started making her way around the edges of the throng. She edged closer, keeping him in her peripheral vision, because if she looked at him directly, she’s sure she’d chicken out. Before she knew it, she’s next to him and offering him the platter.

_“Would you like a shrimp avocado roll? Richards’ parties suck but the food is decent.”_

His posture didn’t change, but his tone is conversational, rather than confrontational. _“Do you know how many of Richard’s parties I’ve had to endure, waiting for you?”_

 _Whoops_. “If it helps, I’ve had the exact same problem. Sooo… What do we do now? I’m getting pretty tired of these shindigs.”

She can hear the smile in his voice. “We could go raid a minibar and charge it to Richards’ account.”

“He’s so rich he wouldn’t even notice.”

“Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be fun.”

“We could heckle Richards, see how long it takes for us to get thrown out.”

“Drawing attention isn’t really my forte.”

“I kinda got that…We could skinny-dipping in the pool,” she offered.

“You just want to see me naked,” he accused.

“Damn straight."

"I don't think this convention centre has a pool."

“Dammit. We could go for a joyride in one of these fancy-schmancys’ cars. They’d never even notice.”

“We could avoid a minor felony and borrow my buddy’s motorbike, go see the sights around here.”

“Are there any sights around Malabami? Malib- Malibu. Crap.”

“Maybe not the minibar then.”

“You have a better idea?”

“We could glitterbomb Richards’ room.”

She’s outraged. “Think of the cleaning staff! We could glitterbomb Richards.”

“Have you seen what he’s wearing? I don’t think it’d make a difference.”

Her lips twitch. “The man’s a peacock, strutting about for socialites who have no idea what he does.”

“We could stage a kidnapping, give them some idea.”

“If you carry off any other female, I’m never talking to you again.”

His teasing tone turns suddenly serious. “I’m not exactly a knight in shining armour.”

“No, it’s just your arm that’s shining. Y’know what? Just ignore what I’m saying because I’ve obviously got zero filter on my mouth.”

He turns, smiles. “Doll, you sound just about perfect to me.”


	2. Ego

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy heads off the Civil War, because that trailer gave me FEELS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omigod, omigod you guys!  
> The reaction to this has been so amazing, I'm singing Legally Blonde! Thank you so much!  
> ~if there ever was a perfect couple, this one would qualify! Omigod, you guys! ~
> 
> This chapter based on Ego by the Saturdays, from the album Wordshaker

“This simply is not the best way to ensure the safety of the world.”

Darcy sighed as she heard the voices coming from the lab. Tony was once again harping on about the Sokhovia Accords.

Now, accountability and oversight were all well and good, but the Avengers were already seen as an instrument of Western hegemony. If they answered to a committee from the US-dominated UN, it wouldn't just be a conspiracy, it would be certain. How long until they were sent in to 'resolve' a civil war, or were refusing to help until a country's government adopted more 'ethical' practices? It was totally a recipe for disaster, but what did she know? She was just a political science grad who had been working with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes for the last few years.

Of course, none of this mattered if Tony and Steve's bickering managed to split the team down the middle.

It had only gotten worse now Steve had found Bucky and had sneaked him into the tower. He said that it was safe, that Bucky had his memories back and had broken the conditioning, but Tony still kept him quarantined and away from everyone else. He couldn't turn him in, though, because now he was in Avengers Tower, Tony would look like an accomplice.

"If you don't think this team is right for protecting this world, maybe you shouldn't be part of it!"

Oh no. That was Steve, and from the sound of it, he was issusing ultimatums.

"Maybe I will! You seem to forget who's bankrolling this thing now SHIELD is gone. I managed just fine without the rest of you before."

Crap. Tony was answering the same way.

She heard a murmur that had to be Bruce reminding them that stress in his lab was a very bad thing, but neither seemed to be listening any more. That was it. Noone stressed out Bruce on her watch. She slammed down her papers and stalked into the room. 

"Enough, both of you, you're bothering Bruce." She was very careful not to yell, but she was an expert at being heard when she wanted to. Both men turned to her, pleading their case, but she was having none of it.

"You," she said to Tony, jabbing a finger where his arc reactor used to be. "You need to have a sit down with your ego. This works because you're all a team, so start acting like it. And while these accords might sound like a good idea in theory, so did communism! The Avengers are effective because they act outside the system, for the good of humanity as a whole."

Steve started to smile, but she rounded on him too. "And you! The avengers have caused billions of dollars of damage and destroyed an entire city. Surely you can see why the world wants someone to blame? And didn't your momma ever teach you to ask before bringing a friend home, let alone former soviet assassins? That was just rude!"

Belatedly, Darcy realised that the soviet assassin in question was sitting between Steve and Tony, a panel in his arm open, and he was watching her with wide, amused eyes. " _I'm sorry you got caught up in this, but someone needed to stop these two morons before someone got hurt,_ " she apologised.

He grinned suddenly. " _It was worth it to see you tell Steve off. Don't think anyone's done that since 1938._ "

Darcy grinned back, offered her hand out to shake. "Darcy Lewis, scientist wrangler and Avenger herder."

He stood, flicking the panel in his arm shut, ignoring the outraged protests beside them. He took her hand, but instead of shaking it, lifted it to his lips. "James Barnes, doll. Pleasure to meet you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus: "Wait. You mean you've been on my case because your soulmark told you to!?"


	3. Steal Me Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's bored. Luckily, her soulmate is just around the corner to brighten her day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based on Steal Me Away by Olivia Lane, from the album Love Thing

Darcy Lewis was bored.

Now they worked at Stark Industries, Jane didn’t need her anymore. There were literally hundreds of people more qualified than her to work in the labs, and while Jane might protest that Darcy was her best friend, she certainly wasn’t complaining when her assistants actually understood what she was talking about 90% of the time.

On the scientist-wrangling side of it, Friday was actually better than Darcy at handling the Scientists Three, as she was able to turn off applications, heating, and even power to ensure that semi-regular sleep patterns and meals ensued.

Between alien attacks and mad scientists, her life had fallen into a pattern that wasn’t exactly boring, but, kinda, stagnant? She was beginning to worry that she was getting jaded. She just seemed to be the same person, doing the same old things. She was totally ready to change it up. The only question was, how?

She gets her chance when Steve brings his old friend back to the Tower.

The first time she sees Bucky Barnes, he’s unconscious and being wheeled into the medical lab, bleeding from a million tiny cuts. The second that Dr. Cho switches on the overheads to get a better look, he bolts upright and nearly strangles her with his metal arm. Darcy should be terrified, but she and Jane are behind Hulk-proof glass, so she’s fascinated instead. Steve bursts in seconds later, calms his friend down, and Darcy sees sense return to eyes blank with panic. She’s pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate a first meeting like this, so she quickly busies herself in paperwork. With Jane, there’s always more paperwork.

The second time she sees him, he’s on a stool in the common area glaring daggers at Tony Stark, who’s wrist deep in that shiny metal arm with an expression of glee. They’ve been clearing out Hydra bases in Europe, and Tony’s been itching for the arm to get damaged so he can get his hands on it. Judging discretion the better part of valour, Darcy beats a speedy retreat back to the labs. She doesn’t notice the curious eyes tracking her exit, doesn’t hear the question to Steve who is waiting nearby. “Hey punk, who’s the dame who just came in? I thought this was the ‘Avengers only’ floor?”

Two days later, Darcy receives a package. It’s a red scarf, floaty and light. Whoever bought it obviously doesn’t know her, because all her accessories are blue: brings out her eyes, doncha know? Still, she keeps it, because a gift is a gift, and soon she’s using it nearly every day because it matches her favourite lipstick. She considers asking Friday who gave it to her, but where’s the fun in that?

A week later, a pair of ridiculous heels turn up outside her door. They’re totally impractical, but surprisingly comfy, and the next time there’s a girls’ night out, she wears them instead of her usual boots, and dances _all night_. Jane’s very impressed.

After that, it’s a dress. It fits perfectly, even though it’s strapless and she never goes for strapless. Not until now. She doesn’t see it immediately; she’s supervising a Science-bender that goes overtime and someone else notices the parcel sitting outside her door. The lab assistants tease her all week about her mystery admirer.

The week after, she leaves a post-it note on her door. _I've left my door unlocked; maybe leave it inside next time?_  The next morning, a ticket to Wicked, the musical, is sitting on her coffee table. She’s never seen a Broadway show, which is ridiculous now she lives in New York, but she never had the time.

The next week, there’s nothing on her coffee table, no parcel outside her door. Instead, there’s a bouquet of flowers, and while she’s more of a chocolate girl, she’s not complaining because they’re being held by a supersoldier with a cheeky grin and bright blue eyes. “ _Got any plans for Friday night?_ ”

She gapes, long enough for the grin to falter, but pulls herself together, a sneaking suspicion growing in the back of her mind. “ _Actually, I was going out to a show in my gorgeous new dress and some fabulous heels. I don’t suppose you’re planning to join me?_ ”

It’s his turn to gape as she plucks the flowers from his grip and returns inside find a vase. “Pick me up at 7, and don’t be late!”

The grin returns full force. Oh, this is going to be _interesting_.


	4. 6'2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's soulmark is unenlightening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter based on 6'2 by Marie Miller
> 
> I realise they've all been Darcy-centric fluff so far, but the next one will be Bucky-centred. In my defence, I was at a wedding today, and I had another last week, so my real life is pretty fluffy at the moment!

Some people got a name as part of their soulmark. Others, the situation in which they would meet. Darcy? Darcy got his freaking height.

That never stopped her dreaming about what he looked like, though. Would he be blonde and blue-eyed, an Adonis of a man? Or would he have brown hair and green eyes? Would he be skinny or hulking? She got great at telling heights at a glance, but by the time she graduated Culver, she didn't care what he looked like, she just wanted him to turn up already.

With one thing and another, Darcy pushed her words to the back of her mind.There were elves to fight and scientists to herd, and somewhere along the line she had picked up a whole passel of heroes to care for. She knew she would meet him sometime; she just had to be patient.

* * *

Darcy had known that the machine was going to blow up sometime. When, exactly, she hadn’t be sure, but the rattling and shaking had gotten worse and worse the last few times Jane had started it up. Today had been the last straw, and now the precious sample was sitting on top of one of the lights, which, from experience, were far, far, out of reach for her and Jane. Thor was back on Asgard, doing something no doubt terribly important and boring, but all that meant was that they couldn't ask him to get it down for them. (She'd suggested using a broom to dislodge it, but Jane had thrown a fit. Apparently it was _fragile_.)

She heard voices in the lab next door. Perfect! Tony might be short, but there was a good chance one of his visitors was not. There were benefits to living in a tower of superheroes.

She poked her head around the door frame, focussed on the first tall figure she saw. " _You! How tall are you? We need some help with a thingummy!_ "

In the moment it took for him to answer, she sized him up. He looked- " _I'm 6'2, ma'am. How may I be of service?_ "

Well. There was no time to stare, though, because Jane was likely to start climbing things soon. She grabbed his arm, dragged him into the next room. "Fear not Janey, for my soulmate is tall enough to retrieve the whatsit!"

Jane _was_ climbing the cabinet. At the word 'soulmate', though, she started, losing her grip, and it was only through the intervention of the man at Darcy's side that she didn't fall far. As he lowered her to the floor, Darcy clasped her hands and fluttered her eyelashes madly. "My hero!"

He shot her a grin as Jane directed him to the runaway sample. "Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus: "are you two going to make out in my lab all day? I have research to do!"


	5. Where are you now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's just a bit fractured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying my hand at a more introspective Bucky-centred one. Let me know what you think!  
> Warning: for discussion of mental state and possible suicidal thought

Bucky Barnes is dying. To tell the truth, he's a little surprised the fall didn't kill him outright. Still, it hurt. A lot. At least the cold is taking away the pain, blissful numbness cancelling out the agony in his arm. It's actually quite peaceful.

He's glad he's not leaving too many people behind. His mom. Rebecca (man, he wished he could see her grow up). Steve. There'll really be no one to stop the punk running into trouble every chance he gets. It's doubtful Bucky'd be able to stop him now he's gone and been experimented on, but at least he _tried_. Maybe Steve can handle it on his own now he's bigger. He's going to have to.

Finally, he understands why he never got a soulmark. One less person to cry over him.

* * *

When they find him and bring him to Zola, he wishes he died on that mountain.

* * *

The world is grey ice and red blood. He is the Soldier. He follows orders. He completes his mission. 

And sometimes, he remembers. 

He'll never admit it, but he's glad when they wipe his mind, again and again. When he starts to remember who he is, he starts to remember what he's done.

He knows why he doesn't have a soulmark. He doesn't have a soul. Not anymore.

* * *

One day, they wake him up and as the ice clears from his brain, they point and chatter at the writing on his weak arm.

He doesn't understand why he has words. Words are for people. He is an asset.

They try to remove the words, scraping, cutting, burning. Always, always, the words return. Eventually, they stop trying. They have a mission for him instead. The mission comes first.

But there's a crack in the ice. Maybe assets are people too.

* * *

The man on the bridge knows him. The ice cracks again. They try to fix it with the chair but the damage is irreversible. The ice is splintering, slowly, from the inside out.

It takes months for the jagged shards to melt.

He thinks about letting the meltwater wash him away. No one would need to know. He could disappear, into the woods, into the wild, never to be seen again, but the words hold him fast, an anchor against the flood.

* * *

By the time Steve finds him, he is more, and less.

More than they made him to be, less than he was.

* * *

He wanders the streets of Brooklyn, remembering. Mrs Eckford, the teacher who never stopped trying to teach him algebra. Alexa, the girl who he loved in 5th grade, only for her move away the summer after. His friends from the schoolyard, the girls who they chased. The one that he caught, only to discover the words that slipped across her stomach.

His sister, grown and married and gone, who named her first son James.

He moves into Avengers Tower. He doesn't need to explain how the glittering spires of Manhattan make more sense than the ghosts that roam Brooklyn. Steve understands.

He is standing by the window, looking out across the East River, when she comes up beside him. " _You miss it, don't you? Brooklyn. Not the Brooklyn that's there now, but the one where you grew up. The one that made you who you are._ "

He doesn't turn. " _You understand_." 

She slips he hand into his. "Of course I do."

They stand there, fingers intertwined, for a long time.


	6. At the Beginning (part 1, what you did to my heart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secret agent!Darcy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be cute and fluffy. Instead, it's a mainly canon-compliant retelling of the events of Winter Soldier. Because badass!administrators make me happy.
> 
> This chapter based on At the Beginning, from the movie Anastasia

Darcy Lewis certainly didn't set out to be a spy. It just kinda happened. It started with self-defence lessons from Nat, and lock picking with Clint. They give her tips on improving her hacking, how to dress to blend in or to stand out. Without her realising it, they've put her through the entire SHIELD espionage training, only without actually being part of SHIELD.

This makes her the perfect person when Nat starts to suspect something hinky within SHIELD. A few modifications to her résumé, and she's SHIELD's newest administrative assistant, fresh from finishing her master's degree at Culver. Her thesis posited a new world order, one where power is given to the elite for the good of all. It's not long before she's quietly tapped on the shoulder to put her ideas into practice.

With her new patronage, she rises up the ranks quickly, somehow ending up the handler for the STRIKE team. She relays orders and takes copious notes, has a finger in every pie. She acquires a reputation for being both fearsomely efficient and intolerant of mess.

Brock Rumlow flirts with her constantly. She has the feeling he's testing her devotion to the cause, but she trained with Natasha Romanoff and can return in kind. She's the one who passed on the information about a mole on the Lemurian Star, somehow coordinates both sides of the hijacking. It gets harder and harder to keep both sides straight, and separate, but to fail would be deadly.

When the asset is taken out of storage, she's secondary handler on the operation. She doesn't realise the target until it's too late to do anything but activate the Firebreak Protocol, leaving Fury seemingly dead and Captain America a fugitive. For her excellent service, she is promoted to personal assistant of Secretary Pierce himself. At his side, she learns the truth of Project Insight.

She desperately tries to contact Steve, but he and Nat have gone off the grid so effectively even she can't find them. The next time she sees them, they're being pursued by the STRIKE team, and only through some fast talking does she convince Pierce that executing Captain America in broad daylight would be a very bad idea.

* * *

She accompanies Pierce to that hideous parody of a debriefing and is appalled to learn "the asset is a person!?"

Pierce smiles condescendingly. "Hardly. He is a tool, nothing more."

She scrambles for words, somehow manages to sound disinterested, but _of course_ she recognises him. "That hardly seems efficient."

Pierce shrugs. "It was a different time, and he served his purpose well enough. Once Project Insight goes into action, I expect we will have him decommissioned."

She injects outrage into her voice. It's not difficult. "At least clean his wounds! He's bleeding everywhere. And give him a haircut, it's so, so _messy_!"

He laughs. "Order in all things, Miss Lewis? Very well, if you are so inclined, you can do it yourself, once they've recalibrated the conditioning. The workers here have their own duties."

She is careful not to speak to him, not to treat him as a person, until her superiors have gone and the technicians are busy elsewhere.

" _I'm so sorry about this. This is all I can do._ "

He looks up at her, really focuses. " _You're not like the others, are you?_ "

The resulting pause in the clicking of the scissors makes the nearest agent look over in suspicion. Acting casually, she continues to snip away until he loses interest. Under the pretence of checking the length, she murmurs, "next time they let you out, meet me in front of the Lincoln Memorial."

* * *

The day of the helicarrier launch, Pierce has her accompany him to the meeting of the World Security Council, and is surprised when his attempt to murder them doesn't go off. He shakes his head at her betrayal. "Such a pity, Miss Lewis. There would've been such need of your services in the new world order. But even you cannot disable Project Insight from here. Watch us rise!"

He certainly didn't count on the efforts of Steve and Sam, who are curiously unimpeded as they switch the controller chips aboard the helicarriers.

* * *

She finds him waiting for her in front of the Lincoln Memorial, just one more in a crowd of horrified onlookers. Together, they watch as the helicarriers crash and burn, turning the Triskelion into rubble and his life from the last 70 years into so much smoke on the wind.

"Is this the end?"  he asks, gripping her hand tightly.

"No, Bucky. This is the beginning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm. This story might get a continuation, if anyone's interested.
> 
> Update: Thanks for all the interest! This and the next chapter have got their own work, [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5340038).


	7. The Way Out (part 2, what you did to my heart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of yesterday's At the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to a) thank everyone who expressed interest in a continuation and b) apologise, because my muse ambushed me in the middle of work and hijacked the plot with the question "how do Darcy and Nat communicate?".
> 
> This chapter is based on The Way Out by Jack Walton

They stand watching the fall of SHIELD until the police come to break up the crowd.

“Where do we go?” asks Bucky.

Darcy shrugs. She’s just realised that with Nat’s infodump, her status as a Hydra agent may have hit the internet. “We could go to Avengers Tower?” she volunteers. “I’m sure Steve would love to see you.”

Bucky looks confused. With a jolt, she remembers the chair.

“The man on the bridge?” she prompts.

His expression clears somewhat, but he shakes his head. “No. I don’t want him to see me like this. He knows me, but I don’t know me.”

“Somewhere else then,” Darcy agrees.

They steal a few metro cards from the crowd around them and use them to hit up ATMs around the city. Hydra had a lot of bank accounts, but by the time Darcy’s done, they have a lot less. It seems having one person doing the filing has backfired rather spectacularly.

With their newfound riches, they buy a secondhand car and start to drive. Well, Bucky drives. Darcy pulls out her minicomputer and contacts Nat via the messaging system of a mostly-defunct forum. They have a few of these accounts for emergencies just like this.

 **Taserchick1990** : Heyyy hw r u?

Nat must be worried, because her answer pops up almost immediately.

 **DeadlyRedhead** : I’m well, how are you? What are you doing these days?

 **Taserchick1990** : I met my soulmate!!!

 **DeadlyRedhead** : That’s great! Do I know him? You should bring him around.

 **Taserchick1990** : He’s not 2 keen on meeting th fam w all the drama atm.

 **DeadlyRedhead** : Can you speak English? How long will you be away? I’d love to meet him. I’m in town for the next month or so.

 **Taserchick1990** : Dont b a drag. We r headed out of twn to get 2 kno each otha a bit. Well hav 2 catch up n th nxt yr

 **DeadlyRedhead** : You can’t just hole up for a year! In the next two months, at the latest.

 **Taserchick1990** : 10 months

 **DeadlyRedhead** : Nope. We’ll have to come for a visit before then.

 **Taserchick1990** : 8 thn, dnt come

 **DeadlyRedhead** : As long as you keep in touch once a month, then okay.

 **Taserchick1990** : Fine. Luv ya xoxoxox

She signs off and sets about making them new identities. She already has a few, none of them SHIELD- or HYDRA- issued and therefore safe, but she didn’t count on Bucky. Luckily, she’s a pro.

They find a secluded cabin in the Poconos that the owner is willing to rent out for cash. She’s Delia Roberts and he’s her husband John, fresh out of the army and in need of a quiet place to settle down for a bit. The neighbours are friendly, but quite a ways away, and promise to call ahead before visiting when they learn John is a veteran.

The cabin comes fully furnished, which means they only have to buy groceries. Darcy goes into the store alone; even the few people there set Bucky’s teeth on edge. He indulges his protective impulse by waiting in the car outside and eyeballing anyone entering or exiting.

* * *

**MyEyesAreUpHere** : Hey!  Just letting you know things are great over here, but totally not what I expected. How is everyone?

 **NotMyDivision** : Good to hear from you. In actual English, too! I’m good, have moved back home. Birdbrain’s sad he missed you but can’t wait to meet your new man. Your girl has moved in with her boyfriend’s family, so I haven’t heard from her for a while. Dad’s been cleaning, he and Mom were horrified to find rats in the house, but they managed to get rid of all of them. Uncle Grumpy is still doing his thing in the attic. Granddad’s got a new BFFL and spends all his time trying to track down his old BFFL to mend fences, but he’s not having much luck. Are you coming home soon?

 **MyEyesAreUpHere** : Not yet.

Darcy shuts her laptop with a sigh of relief. Nat and Clint are ok, Jane’s with Thor on Asgard, Tony and Pepper found and removed HYDRA agents from SI, Bruce is happily science-ing, and Steve and the guy with the wings are looking for Bucky.

She sighs and looks over at Bucky. He’s still resistant to the idea of meeting Steve and she doesn't want to push. Instead, he’s been teaching her how to survive in the wild and she’s been teaching him about the 21st Century. It’s not as difficult as she expected: he lived through bits and pieces of the 20th Century and every now and then some memories shake loose.

* * *

**Phoenixandash** : Hi how are you?

 **Rainbow-unicorn-girl** : Heyyy its gud to hear from u, we r gr8! How r u? Wuu2?

 **Phoenixandash** : Wuu2? Is that even English?

 **Rainbow-unicorn-girl** : What are you up to. Gosh.

 **Phoenixandash** : oh. My mistake. Same old, same old. Everyone’s doing their own thing. Everyone misses you though.

 **Rainbow-unicorn-girl** : Yea k cool we myt drop by in th nxt few mnths g2g

She bought Bucky a tablet and he’s been experimenting with touch screens. His pop culture knowledge is growing; she considered a Netflix account, but that requires a credit card, so instead she’s introduced him to TV Tropes and streams movies through 6 proxy servers.

* * *

**L33t-h4xr-grrl** : Yo just checking in on the fambam, how’s it going?

 **53cr3t-k33p3r** : Grandpa keeps on wandering off. I’m worried he won’t be able to find his way home someday. Maybe you could talk to him: he always had time for you.

 **L33t-h4xr-grrl** : I’m pretty busy at the moment. Tell him all good things come to him who waits not him who goes looking, maybe that’ll keep him at home. See you later.

 **53cr3t-k33p3r** : Do you know something you’re not sharing? _(message unread)_

Darcy feels vaguely guilty about Steve’s fruitless search for Bucky, but she hasn’t had the courage to bring him up in conversation again.  She knows talking about Steve hurts him.

They’ve been sleeping in separate beds. He’s always careful when they’re awake, but he doesn’t trust himself when he’s asleep. The Winter Soldier never really slept and he’s still uncomfortable at the idea at being so vulnerable, so he spends hours staring at the ceiling waiting for sleep to overtake him as his soulmate slumbers three metres and a world away.

* * *

**InTheDark** : It’s been over a month

 **InTheDark** : Are you there?

 **InTheDark** : Shall we drop by?

 **KillerCurvesAhead** : We’re alive. Stop panicking. Life’s just been busy.

Bucky’s been remembering. She can tell. He spends long moments looking out at nothing, never even hearing her until she’s right beside him. Worse, he won’t talk to her about it, shrugging off her concerns. He falls into dark moods where nothing he does is good enough, and has broken three phones for loading too slowly. She knows he’d never hurt her physically, but every episode breaks her heart a little more.

* * *

**xx-lightning-sistah-xx** : Do you know anything about treating PTSD?

 **~bloodmoonnight~** : What caused it?

 **xx-lightning-sistah-xx** : Brainwashing and mind control

 **~bloodmoonnight~** : WHAT

 **~bloodmoonnight~** : Are you serious?

 **~bloodmoonnight~** : Of course you are. Is it your soulmate? Was he part of that mess with the guy in green and gold?

 **xx-lightning-sistah-xx** : Yes him. No something else. But similar I guess.

 **~bloodmoonnight~** : I’m not an expert, but there are people here who are. Come home?

 **xx-lightning-sistah-xx** : <offline>

One night, Darcy wakes to find Bucky trapped in a nightmare, muscles tensed, teeth gritted, and breaths short and ragged. He doesn’t respond when she calls his name, so she reaches out to touch his shoulder. Faster than she thought possible, he has her by the throat and she’s finding it difficult to breathe. His gaze goes from savage to confused to aghast, and he drops her so suddenly she stumbles backwards. Without saying a word, he bolts from the cabin.

She waits the long hours until dawn for him return in vain, but they’ve been here for months and she knows these woods. She gathers some supplies, a coat, and some sensible shoes, and follows him. Decades of practice has left him near untraceable on any terrain but this time he’s made no effort to hide his trail. She finds him less than an hour from the cabin, seated on a fallen tree, head in his hands.

Darcy makes sure to step on branches as she approaches but although he drops his hands, his gaze resolutely stays fixed downwards.  She perches on a nearby stump, takes a breath to talk, and is interrupted by a flood of words from her normally taciturn soulmate.

 “I hate this. I hate what they did to me. I hate what they made me do, who they made me. I hate that I can’t even escape their evil here,” he takes a breath. “I don’t deserve you. I won’t blame you for taking the easy way out.”

She stills. “Do you want me to go?”

He looks up, startled. “No! But why would you want to stay?” His voice is strangled. “Darcy, I nearly _killed_ you today. We can’t even sleep in the same bed because it’s not safe for you. We've been out here for months and it’s getting worse, not better. Is this really what you want?”

For a long moment, she’s quiet. She knows if she leaves now, he won’t follow her, won’t stop her. She could return to civilisation, to the hustle and bustle of city life where the nearest café is downstairs and a shoe store is just next door. She knows it would be so simple to go back to New York, to the city she loved and the friends she made. She’s tracked down and deleted all the evidence of her involvement in HYDRA that she could find. She could return to SI, keep the Scientists Three fed and rested. She knows Nat would ask no questions, keep her secrets. Noone would ever have to know.

She knows it would break both their hearts if she did so.

Her next words are whisper-thin. “I can’t do this-”

His shoulders slump in defeat.

“-alone,” she finishes. “You need more than just me.”

He looks up again, hope and pain in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I think it’s time we go the Avengers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two chapters have been expanded into a new story [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5340038)


	8. I Lived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy hates her words. Who needs a soulmate, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone looking for the continuation of the previous chapters, you'll find it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5340038)
> 
> This chapter is based on the song I Lived by One Republic, as covered by Caleb and Kelsey.

Darcy’s thought a lot about how she’ll respond to her soulmate. It’s pretty obviously his words are a reply to something she’s said, but she has no idea where the conversation will go from there. How do you talk to a soulmate who doesn’t want you?

* * *

At age 7, her words send her into floods of tears

At age 11, she’s certain that if her soulmate doesn’t want her, no-one will. She refuses to let the hope of alternate interpretations grow into actual daydreams.

At age 15, she decides that if he doesn’t want her, she doesn’t want him. Not ever. She’ll find someone else.

At age 19, a string of failed relationships behind her, she’s realised she doesn’t need anyone else to be happy anyway.

By age 23, she actually feels sorry for her soulmate. Sure, she might dread the day she meets him, but she’ll cross that bridge when she gets to it.

When she needs extra science credits to graduate and the only internship still available is one in New Mexico, she jumps at it, because every new experience matters.

She didn’t expect this many new experiences.

She’s gotten hammered (ha-ha) with Asgardians, backpacked through Europe, fought evil elves through the streets of London, moved to New York and met Pepper Potts. She reckons she’s stored up enough experiences for anyone’s lifetime.

At age 27, she starts to wonder who hurt her soulmate so badly he would say that to her.

She’s graduated from Scientist-wrangler to official Team Mom. She might not have superpowers or a supersuit or even super fighting skills, but dammit, she can make sure they come back to thank-you-for-saving-the-world-cookies!

She blackmails, bullies, and cajoles the Avengers into getting enough food and rest (so what else is new?) and as janitors aren’t allowed on the Avenger floors, she supervises the cleaning bots that Tony makes. She’s happy. Her new experiences are behind her, and all she needs is to get that pesky soulmate meting out of the way so she can focus on her life of domestic bliss.

* * *

Bucky’s exhausted. They’ve been clearing out HYDRA bases around Europe as some destructive form of therapy, but with every explosion he remembers a little more of the past 70 years. None of it’s been comforting. He’s killed senators, doctors, rebel leaders, families, children… Intellectually, he knows it’s not his fault. He was brainwashed and under duress. That doesn’t excuse the fact that each time, it was his hands that held the gun.

He was a good Catholic boy (not so good later, but those days are long past), knows the value of atonement. He hopes his latest crusade has cleansed some of the shadow from his soul.

He’s dirty, tired, and wants nothing more than to collapse into bed, but Steve insists they stop at the communal floor. Bucky’s only been once before: on previous visits to the Tower, he mostly split his time between the medical lab and his quarters. Steve’s practically bubbling over about homemade cookies; Bucky has no idea who in the Tower would make them but hopes it’s not Nat. Superspy or not, baking is not her forte.

The lift opens up onto the communal floor. A gorgeous curvy brunette he doesn’t recognise is checking the oven; as they enter, she turns and gives them a brilliant smile. “ _If you boys want to wash up, they’ll be just about ready when you’re done._ ”

Bucky freezes. He knows those words; they’ve been on his arm since he last woke up, and even for some time before then. The brunette’s forehead creases in concern and she makes as if to come around the kitchen counter but he holds his hands up as if to ward her away. _“Find someone else, someone who can make you happy. I’m no good for you._ ”

The smile disappears. Bucky recognises the set of her jaw: it’s the same way his ma looked when he was about to get a hiding. She slaps her oven mitts onto the counter and stalks towards him.

“Don’t you tell me what to do. I AM happy, with or without you or anyone else. Now, I’ve heard about what you’ve been through, so I am forgiving you for making me grow up with those words and that’s all we are going to say about that. Now go and get cleaned up, and you can have cookies when you get back.”

He finds himself snapping to attention. “Yes ma’am!”

* * *

Steve’s looking between the two of them, confused, but as Bucky drags him away, the light of comprehension begins to dawn. “Buck, is she your-“

Darcy refuses to watch her soulmate walk away, but she knows the sound of a palm being slapped over someone’s mouth. When they're gone, she dissolves into giggles. Quietly.

* * *

The next morning, she wakes to find a beautiful bouquet of flowers shedding petals on her doorstep, along with a sticky note underneath the keyhole saying _sorry_ . She puts them in water and displays them in the common area, and adds to the sticky note so it says _sorry enough to trigger my hayfever? Thanks but no_

The next day, the note has been replaced: _sorry about that too. No flowers then?_

She rolls her eyes and fetches her own stash of sticky notes: _flowers are pretty but useless_

The next note is attached to a block of Ghirardelli chocolate: _better?_

Her next note is on the empty wrapper: _maybe_

He continues on the empty space (it was a large block): _can I take you out to coffee?_

Underneath, she adds: _why should I say yes?_

_I gave you chocolate_

_Pepper bought me a coffee machine_ (technically, the coffee machine was for the Avengers, but it took a special type of person to actually operate it)

_I can get you a coffee machine_

_I already have one of those_

_Then what do you want?_

* * *

Bucky stared grumpily at the rumpled chocolate wrapper. She’d covered all the remaining space with what looked like a shopping list. _Almond flour. Hazelnut butter. Dutched chocolate. Dried cranberries. Fresh raspberries. Mascarpone cheese_ . _Ladyfinger biscuits. Vanilla beans._ Damn tease. 70 years of being a weapon, and this smart-mouthed brunette was going to be the death of him.

He sighed and went to grab his wallet.


	9. Hello (part 1, the other on my heart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her relationship imploded when her soulmark showed up, but fate has something better in store

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based on Hello by Adele, from the album 25

“ALL-AMERICAN BABY” the headlines proudly proclaim. “PARENTAL PATRIOTISM”  

A year ago, Darcy would’ve been ecstatic to see those headlines. Also a little pissed, because, hello, privacy? But also secretly pleased at the paparazzi pics of a beaming Steve helping his girl out of a car, her baby bump just starting to show.

A year ago, that would’ve been her.

She and Steve had clicked when he first moved into Avengers Tower. Her inattention in history class had left her with less patriotic awe than the average American and they bonded over Disney movies as she caught him up on 70 years of pop culture. She’d just moved to DC to join him when they discovered her soulmark, long faded, had burst into full colour. Steve was devastated, and nothing she could say had eased his dismayed sense of betrayal. She had moved out the next day.  Maybe they could’ve worked through it, with enough time, but then SHIELD fell and he threw himself into fighting the new HYDRA threat.

She had found work with a charity just outside LA, about as far as she could get from him without leaving the 48 states. She had considered Alaska, but Darcy liked to be warm. He’d insisted that she shouldn’t leave just because of him, but as he couldn’t even hide a flash of hurt every time they talked, she figured it was better for both of them this way.

Her shoebox apartment is too small, too quiet, and so she spends her time off in a diner about three blocks away. She becomes good friends with the staff and is oh so slightly addicted to Mabel's chocolate malt milkshakes.

She first tried calling to apologise months ago, but when his phone picked up, it was a woman who answered.  _Steve's busy at the moment, how did you get this number?_  She'd stammered out a Stark-related explanation and hung up.

She tried again later, several times, but hasn't managed to get through. She's thought about leaving voicemails, but what good would that do?

She considers calling once more, to offer her congratulations. She doesn't.

* * *

Every day, he remembers a little more: of who he was, of who they made him into, of what he's done. The man on the bridge- Steve- he remembers him too.

Remembering hurts.

He makes his way across America, just one more drifter on the road.

Every now and then, he sees Steve on the news, defusing a hostage situation or saving some kids. Punk always wanted to help others. Small but scrappy, with a heart of gold and knack for getting into trouble. Those Brooklyn days are coming back to him faster than those that came after, for which he is eternally grateful.

Each time he sees two boys playing in the street, his heart twists a little more.

Now all the papers are talking about this baby, and showing photos of Steve visiting children's hospitals in full costume. Bucky remembers a younger Steve meeting his little sister Rebecca, just after her birth, and being so scared he would drop her. He laughs at the memory, a rusty sound that surprises all in the diner, including himself. The curious eyes make him uncomfortable, and he quickly pays his bill and leaves.

He's not sure where exactly he is, at this point. He passed Las Vegas a while back, headed south and west somewhat, perhaps circled back around. The next diner is one of those that looks 50's themed not on purpose, but because no-one bothered to update the decor. Despite this, it's pretty much full and no booths are available, so he slides into a seat at the counter that allows him to watch the door. There's a TV in the corner, turned to the 24-hour news channel, once again doing a report on the Avengers.

Watching closely, he only distantly notices the spot next to him being filled by a girl who greets the staff like old friends and orders "her usual ". She joins him in studying the TV, slurping noisily on some chilled confection that the staff had waiting for her.

As the news moves on to the Super Baby Watch (apparently Pepper Potts has been spotted buying baby paraphernalia and the talking heads are going wild), the girl groans and rests her head in her hands. " _I can't believe I'm the one feeling guilty when he's so obviously over it. Does that seem fair to you_?"

It takes him a moment to realise she's talking to him. " _Depends on what you did, doesn't it_?" he replies, before recognising her words.

She sits bolt upright, stares at him. "That. That is what I did, which is totally not fault because I didn't even do anything! Were you in a coma or something?"

He stares back, equally shocked, not sure how to respond. "Something like that," he mutters eventually.

She looks thoughtful, but doesn't push. "I'm Darcy. I haven't seen you in here before. You from around here, or just passing through?"

"James, and I'm just passing through," he replies. "I take it you're a regular?"

"One of our favourites," the waitress informs him as she delivers his burger and fries. "Yours'll be a little longer, hon," she tells Darcy. "We're swamped."

He pretends not to notice as she steals his fries.

* * *

Somewhere in the midst of swapping family stories, it clicks. Why he looks familiar. Why she's sure some of her pop culture references flew straight over her head. She thumps her head on the table, narrowly missing the BLT that arrived minutes before. "Steve's gonna kill me, " she groans under her breath.

He freezes. Damn superhearing. "Steve?" he asks cautiously.

She sits up, looks him dead in the eye. "Yep. Steve. Your old buddy, and coincidentally, my ex. Ohhh, telling him is going to suck."

He makes a face. "Do we have to?"

She rolls her eyes. "It'd be worse if he finds out otherwise. He's going do that super disappointed face that he did when he realised I wasn't going to tell him about my words."

He waves a hand at the TV, although by now it's switched to a different story. "It looks like he's moved on well enough."

She grabs his hand, pulls it down where it won't attract attention. "Sssshhhh," she hisses. "And yeah. Ain't that a kick in the face, huh?"

"You all right there, Darce?" asks Tom as he passes by, a stack of empty dishes in one hand and a cleaning cloth in the other.

"Just fine," she replies. "We just found out James here knows my ex."

Tom shakes his head. "The guy didn't deserve you, and you know it."

"He's a great guy!" she replied indignantly. "Just not right for me." As she speaks, she realises the truth of her words. This last conversation with James has felt more right, more real, than all those months before. Steve had found happiness his own way, had moved on.

Maybe it was time she did the same.


	10. Our Song (part 2, the other on my heart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A road tripping continuation of yesterday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments! I've spent the last couple of days wrestling with a particularly troublesome chapter before rounding out this bit of fluff instead. I'm not sure if Hello will get a work of its own, but if it does, this will be included. Apologies for the lack of Steve, it seems he is a third-chapter character.
> 
> This chapter is based on Our Song by Taylor Swift, from the album Taylor Swift

Though they discuss how and when to tell Steve, in the end the decision is taken out of their hands when Sam comes to check on Darcy.

One moment they’re experimenting with tossing M&M’s and catching them in their mouths, the next, there’s a polite knocking on the door. Darcy leaves James on the couch to find a vaguely familiar black man on her doorstep. He has a friendly smile and a slightly embarrassed air.

“Hey, are you Darcy?”

“Yeah, I am,” she replies cautiously. “Do I know you?”

“Not really. My name’s Sam Wilson, I was in the area and Steve Rogers asked me to check on you. Says he knew you back in New York?” From the way he asks, it’s obvious that Steve told him more than that.

Darcy nods. She’s wondering whether it would be unwise to invite him in; she recognises him now: the Falcon, Steve’s new Avenging buddy.

She’s obviously left the silence linger too long, because he starts shifting slightly, glancing curiously over her shoulder. She knows the moment he notices and recognises James behind her: he does a double-take and his face goes blank with surprise. Grasping the front of his shirt, she drags him inside and shuts the door behind him.

In a flash, James is beside her, “everything ok there, doll?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know you could hear everything from the couch.”

Sam is looking between them. “Darcy, do you know who this is?” As if she hadn’t noticed the shiny metal arm encircling her waist.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “It’s new, ok? Just, don’t tell Steve?”

Sam is looking dubious, but he nods. “I’ll tell him you’re doing fine then. But you’re going to have to talk to him soon, he’s got me looking for you everywhere.” The last, he directs at James. Darcy feels a bit hurt, to be honest, but then Steve has his priorities, and she’s not one of them anymore.

* * *

They decide to do a road trip back to New York, because flying involves metal detectors and they’re pretty sure James isn’t going to get through any of those without notice.

The first few hours are pretty sweet. The sun is out, the radio is blaring, and Darcy is doing a credible imitation of a dog with its head out the window, hair streaming behind her as they rattle down the freeway. Just as they cross into Nevada however, she leans forward and turns the radio down.

James glances over. “Something wrong, doll?”

Darcy grimaces. “Nothing. It’s just, Steve always called this our song.”

He turns the music up again, listens for a few seconds, then switches it off and laughs. “ _This_? This was your song? If you’re looking for a sign that it wasn’t going to work out, this is probably it.”

She pouts in response. “I like this song! Well, I did.” She pauses, reconsiders. “It probably wasn’t the best song for a relationship though. I guess I just liked the idea of having a song.”

He looks over at her, long enough for her to get worried. He was driving, after all. “You want us to have a song? You got one in mind?”

“I’ve thought about it, you know? But none of them quite seem to fit,” she admits.

“We’ll just have to make our own then,” he grins.

“Our own?”

“Yeah. Life’s got a music all of its own. Our song is like you slamming the car door-“

“Otherwise it doesn’t lock!”

“It’s old! Now hush. Like staying up late, chucking rocks at your window-”

“Which should not be possible, you have scarily good aim-” She catches the look on his face and mimes zipping her mouth shut.

“When we’re on the phone and you talk real quiet, ‘cause you’re at work and your boss don’t know.” He quirks an eyebrow at her and she laughs, and he continues, “our song is the way you laugh, that first day when you said the words on my chest and how I feel at home when we’re all alone…”

He lets his voice trail off, looking concerned; Darcy realises she’s actually teared up a bit. Trying to lighten the mood, she complains “now none of the songs on the radio are going to sound any good!”

He snorts. “You may change your mind if you ever actually hear me sing. Becky used to compared it to slaughtering cats!”

Darcy clutches her chest in horror. “You can’t sing? How dreadful! I’m having second thoughts.”

“Oh, I can sing. Anyone can sing! It just doesn’t sound very good.”

“Yeah, I somehow guessed that.” Darcy’s cut off by a yawn: she went into work today to tidy some loose ends and make sure her absence wouldn’t cause too much trouble, so it’s getting quite late.

James looks over at her. “We should stop for the night. Have some dinner, get some sleep. What’s the next town?”

Darcy checks her phone and can’t stop a grin from spreading across her face as she answers “Las Vegas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually haven't decided what the ShieldShock song was, so any suggestions?
> 
> As this seemed worthy of a continuation, I have expanded these two chapters into a full story [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5394542/chapters/12461264).


	11. Dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Criminal/Police AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably continue the previous two chapters later, but for now, have an AU.
> 
> This chapter based on the song Dangerous by Before You Exit

It's a chicken or the egg situation: what comes first, the personality or the soulmark? Does your soulmark control your fate, or does it simply indicate the direction your life might go?

Bucky Barnes didn't put much stock in Soulmark Determinism, but with words like his, he was either going to end up a police officer or a stripper. The latter might pay more, but the former made it easier to look his baby sister in the eye.

He’s not like his partner Steve, who joined the force to protect and serve the people of New York. Sure, those things were all well and good, and Bucky didn’t have a problem with them, but there was always that hope, at every crime scene, that he would find her.

Recently, they’ve been tracking a jewel thief who targets the country club set of New York. He’d like to think that they are a modern-day Robin Hood, but it’s just as likely to be an insurance scam. Tonight, they have set a trap: Warren Worthington has volunteered his father’s antique watch up as bait. While it’s ugly as sin, each numeral is embedded with a different precious stone and it’s worth millions. Worthington has had the watch recently revalued at a jeweller they think the thief is are watching, and according to the gossip rags, is only in town for a week.

Steve and Bucky have been watching every night this week, but there’s been no sign. Tonight must be it.

It’s just past three when he hears it, a quiet hissing and a low humming. He turns, races back to the room where the safe is. Partway down the hall, he is hit with a sudden wave of lightheadedness. Leaning on the wall, he stumbles to the room. At the safe stands a figure in black, with a device that has already cut through the hinges on the safe, probably the humming from earlier. Even as he watches, the figure reaches into the safe and removes the watch.

“ _Stop where you are, turn around, and put your hands in the air._ ”

The figure freezes, before complying, watch still in hand. He opens his mouth to order her to put the watch down and take off the mask, but his head is too heavy and his legs collapse from under him. She waggles her fingers in a little wave as his vision goes black. _The hissing was gas_ , he realises.

* * *

He is woken four hours later by a sheepish Steve, who never even saw the intruder before succumbing to the gas. The watch is gone. Worthington is surprisingly good-natured about the loss, assuring them he never really liked his father or the watch anyway.

Bucky is interviewed several times down at the station, but aside from a vague feeling that the thief was female and shorter than him, his memory is fuzzy enough that the encounter is pretty much useless.

Three days later, a package arrives on Bucky’s desk. Inside sits the watch, now missing all gems but otherwise intact. The resulting meeting of head and desk make the entire bullpen take notice. “She’s teasing us!”

Steve laughs. “Nah, Buck, she’s teasing you! Maybe she has a crush.”

* * *

The captain is less amused. They aren’t taken off the case exactly, but the next week, they are assigned to provide extra security for a political fundraiser. The guy’s a racist windbag who delights in inflaming crowds with rhetoric and showing off a wife who drips with enough diamonds to feed every schoolchild in the state. Bucky can actually empathise with any prospective thieves, but the captain doesn’t want the guy robbed or murdered while in New York.

There’s a team watching from positions around the room but there’s almost too much to keep an eye on in the overheated ballroom. A journalist argues with a volunteer, some interns are stuffing their faces at the buffet, a society matron poses for a cameraman, a socialite fusses over a woman who has been overtaken by the heat. Except the fainting woman is the windbag’s wife, and as he signals Steve, the socialite straightens and moves purposefully towards an exit.

Pushing their way through the crowd, Bucky catches and loses sight of the socialite several times as a group of older men waylay him to complain about the recent crime wave. Steve gets to her first, but by the time Bucky gets to them, Steve’s looking frustrated.

Steve turns to him as the windbag’s wife lets out a shriek behind them. “She says she was just going to fetch the lady a glass of water and didn’t notice anything missing.”

“She must’ve passed the jewels to an accomplice,” Bucky concludes, looking the curvy brunette up and down. It’s pretty obvious there’s nowhere for her to hide a spare hairpin, let alone a fortune in diamonds. She returns the perusal with interest, her perfect look of innocence marred by a wicked sparkle in her eyes.

_"Oh officer, I've been an awfully bad girl. Are you going to arrest me?"_

Bucky groans. “Really?”

She smiles. “Oh, absolutely. Now, as you gentlemen should go attend to that ruckus and have no reason to keep me here, I do have to be going.”

Suiting action to words, she turns back towards the exit, but pauses long enough to glance back at Bucky. “Don’t worry, I’ll be seeing you again soon. How about coffee tomorrow at 3? There’s a divine place by the Gershwin.”

He can only nod as she sashays away.


	12. Bartender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy drinks to forget, but she's going to want to remember tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter based on the song Bartender by Lady Antebellum, from the album 747

Her damn phone won’t stop buzzing. Why can’t her friends understand that she wants to hole up and mourn her relationship alone? Frustrated, she turns her phone to silent, only for them to start hammering at her door not ten minutes later. As soon as she opens the door, strictly to tell them to shut up, they swoop inside, a wave of sequins and perfume. 

“We are going out to celebrate singleness,” announces Jessica, “and you are going to join us. We are going to get drink and dance with strangers. And then we're going to come back and crash on your floor because friends do not let have friends have drunken rebound one-night-stands" 

“If you don’t change,” adds Emily, “we’ll have to take you in that lab coat, and that is really going to limit the places we can get into.” 

Darcy sighs. “Fine. But we go somewhere new. Somewhere I never went with him.” 

Emily grins in triumph. “I know just the place. Now go get dressed.” 

* * *

“You need to get out more,” Steve insists. “See New York as it is now.” 

How can Bucky tell him that he has no interest in getting to know New York, doesn’t feel ready to confront the 21st Century? After some initial hiccups, Steve has taken to the present like a duck to water, loves going out and meeting new people. 

He knows that he used to enjoy being social, but everything is too bright, too loud. When he complained as such to Clint, the archer supplied him with an address. “It’s a new place, might be just what you want.” 

He doubts it, but he’ll give it a try. Maybe if he goes out, Steve will stop pestering him about it. He won’t tell him until later though. Less pressure. 

* * *

As Darcy slams down her fourth shot of whiskey, she’s starting to feel better. Well, she’s starting to feel less, and that’s better, isn’t it? She’s trying to get the bartender’s attention for a refill but Jessica grabs one hand and Emily the other, and they drag her onto the dancefloor instead.  

* * *

The bar is small and full, but not overcrowded and there is no line at the door. He sits at the bar, looks out onto the dancefloor. While there are some people dancing, the music is soft enough that the tables around the outside are full of groups and couples in conversation. He can't see why Steve enjoys this, but perhaps if he'd gone out with the guys tonight, instead of alone, he'd have someone to talk to. 

Instead, he watches the dancers. There's one woman, a curvy brunette in a strapless dress, dancing with a group of friends. Something about her movements, her vivacity, draw his eye. Beckoning the bartender over, he orders a rum and cola and offers to pay for any drinks that the brunette orders. 

Maybe this night wouldn't be so bad. 

* * *

Darcy dances until the rush of alcohol has been replaced by the buzz of endorphins. As the alcohol recedes, the memories rush in, so Darcy makes her way back to the bar. The bartender pours her another shot but as she pulls out her debit card, he shakes his head. “The gentleman over there paid for it,” he yells over the music. 

Darcy looks where he points, raises the glass in a salute of thanks, and downs it in one gulp. Two more shots later, her benefactor makes his way over, offers her his hand in a wordless invitation to dance. 

 _What the hell,_  she thinks, and lets him pull her onto the floor. Maybe it's the lights, the music, the alcohol, or the stranger beside her, but she's actually having fun. He's tall, and hot, and knows exactly how handsy to get. He sends her out into a twirl, then dips her when she spins back to him, just as the current song dips into quiet. Face-to-face, they stare at each other for a beat, and as the music swells, he lowers his face to hers and kisses her. 

All of a sudden they're not dancing anymore, just making out in the middle of the dance floor. His hands slide from her waist to her hips, and seem set to go lower when her friends pulls them apart. As Darcy steps away from him to confront her friend, he automatically lets her go, albeit reluctantly. 

Emily drags her, protesting, to the side of the dancefloor, where it's a bit quieter. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Darcy, hon, you're drunk. You've had like four shots on top of us preloading. Wherever you were going with that guy, I don't think you're in any place to consent to it." She looks at the guy who, along with Jessica, has followed them off the dancefloor. "No offense." 

He inclines his head. "None taken." He looks at Darcy. " _My apologies. I didn't realise you had already had so much to drink_." 

Even in her inebriated state, Darcy knows those words. They've been running up her thigh since the day she was born, had led to a very serious discussion with her parents on the Evils of Alcohol at the tender age of seven when she'd gotten curious about her words. Fearing impending alcoholism, they had banned all alcohol from the house. In hindsight, that had actually made it more likely that she would find her soulmate at Culver, where she got a reputation for being just this side of blackout drunk. 

Back then, she would've been ecstatic to hear them. Tonight, she's got better things to do than coddle the romantic part of her that sent her into that creep's arms for eight months. 

She turns to her soulmate. " _Mama always appreciated that you were polite_." 

His jaw drops. "I- was not expecting this." 

She shrugs, a shy smile playing on her lips. "Neither was I. Listen, you seem really nice and all, but tonight's a night for staying single. You should call me when I'm sober." 

Emily is looking between them like a spectator at a tennis match. Jessica, marginally faster, lets out a squeal. "Really? Oh, this is so exciting, I have to take a photo!" 

Whipping out her phone with a cheery "Smile!” she snaps a few pictures. 

* * *

He takes her number, and her name. Darcy Lewis: it sounds familiar, but he's sure she's not SHIELD, and they're the only people he's really met, besides the Avengers themselves. While he mulls it over, she and her friends head back onto the dancefloor.  

When they make their way out of the club some time later, he calls them a taxi. Jessica wants to walk, and Emily protests when he hands the driver a hundred dollar bill, but Darcy smiles and pats his arm. He practically had to carry her outside, but he's not complaining. 

"I'm not usually this drunk," she confides, "but you were taking so long, and Henry was so interesting until he started sleeping with Hayley from HR. I'm sure there's a conflict of interest there. Probably? Yeah" She blinks owlishly up at him. "I don't think it matters though, now you're here. You could probably beat his scrawny ass with one hand tied behind your back. But you don't have to. I'm normally a bigger fan of the whole non-violence thing..." 

She's still rambling as he pours her into the taxi. He could've listened to her for hours, but the driver is getting impatient, and so are her friends. She blows him a kiss as they drive away. 

* * *

Darcy wakes with a gritty mouth and a pounding head. She's sprawled on her bed, still in her dress from last night. Beside her lies Emily, drooling on her pillow, and from the snoring, Jessica's asleep on the floor.  

Last night was fun, she decides. She remembers drinking lots of alcohol, getting lost in the lights and music, dancing with a hot guy and oh. 

She shakes Emily awake. "Ems, did I meet my soulmate last night?" 

"Yes?" Emily groans, burying her head in the pillow. "I think so? Jess has a photo." 

Darcy slides to the end of the bed, looks down to where Jessica snores. Her phone lies beside the cushion she is using as an improvised pillow. Darcy reaches down and turns it on. It's locked, of course, but friends know friends' phone unlock patterns. She flicks through photos of last night: selfies in the cab where she's pretty much (but not quite) passed out, making faces with the bouncers, the bartender showing off, and there he is. James, she's pretty sure, looking down at her, rather than at the camera. In the next photo, he looks at the camera, still rather shell-shocked. 

He looks familiar, but she can't quite pinpoint why. Pushing it to the back of still throbbing head, she puts on a pot of coffee and goes to take a shower and brush that fuzzy feeling from her teeth. 

She feels better after, but in her absence, her friends have awoken and drunk  _all. her. coffee._  There's no beans left either. They've very apologetic, but it's a grumpy Darcy who asks JARVIS the location of the nearest working stocked coffee machine.  

As it turns out, it's in the Avengers' common area. She has access, thanks to Jane and Thor, but Darcy normally prefers to hang with people who are less able to kill her with their pinkie. Still, coffee is coffee and her traitorous friends still need to use her shower. 

* * *

She won't admit it, but the coffee machine in the common area might actually be superior to the one in her apartment. As she enjoys her third mug of bliss (the first disappeared quickly, as did the second), the lift dings and two figures enter. Captain America is expounding on his night out to a guy who must be the Winter Soldier. "You should come out with me some time, have some fun, instead of whatever you did last night, moping in your rooms." 

They turn to the coffee machine, only noticing her then. Captain America nods in greeting, having passed in the corridors on the lab floor a few times. The Winter Soldier looks as if someone hit him on the back of the head with a board. She's sure she looks the same, but she's had two and a half cups of coffee and her brain is as awake as it'd ever be. 

She plonks her mug onto the counter, walks right up to James, pulls his head down to hers and kisses him. He kisses her back, rather enthusiastically, lifting her onto the counter top to counteract the height difference.  

When they separate, she looks over his shoulder to Captain America doing a creditable impersonation of a goldfish. James turns too, shoots him a wicked grin. "In case you were wondering what I was doing last night..." 

Cap's mouth snaps shut and he shakes his head in resignation. "I need coffee for this." 

 


	13. Superhero (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy’s not sure she likes New York. The funding is a plus, and so is the free rent. Being kidnapped, however, is a definite minus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the gap! I've been struggling with a few different chapters. You know that feeling when you're 1000 words in but have gone nowhere? Yeah, it's great for essays, not so much for fic. Anyway. 
> 
> This chapter is based on the song Superhero by Jesper Jenset. It's set post-Thor 2, pre-Cap 2. There's a sequel in the works, but we'll see how it goes.

There are definite downsides to being the best friend of a brilliant astrophysicist. One moment, she and Jane are exploring Park Avenue. The next, they are bundled into a van and being injected with something that makes their heads all fuzzy.

* * *

Darcy awakens in a lab, tied to a chair. Jane’s there too, but while she’s not tied to her chair, she’s still unconscious. Darcy calls her name, but she doesn’t even stir.

“Hello?” she yells, assuming they’re under surveillance. “Is anyone there? I need to pee.”

Her assumption is proven right when a door hisses open and a man strolls through. He is white-haired and well-dressed, and followed by what is obviously a masked bodyguard in tactical gear.

“Ah, Miss Lewis, you’re awake, it seems.”

 “No, really?”

“My apologies for the inconvenience,” he continues smoothly, ignoring her interruption. “But we need some help from Dr Foster, and simply don’t have the time to find other ways to ensure her compliance.”

Darcy stares at him. “So what, I’m an incentive? Jane does science or I die?”

He smiles widely. “I’m so glad you understand. You can explain it to Dr Foster when she wakes up; I’m afraid we must’ve used too much of the sedative.”

She’s trying really hard to ignore how casually he speaks of her death. Thankfully, she has other, more pressing priorities. “This is really fascinating, but I still need to use the bathroom.”

“Of course.” He motions to the man behind him, who comes forwards to loosen her restraints. She is escorted to a small bathroom, where she takes care of business. On her way back, she takes a look around the lab: stark (ha!) white, with unidentifiable machines, whiteboard walls and a stack of paper almost as tall as her on the desk in front of Jane, who is stirring.

“D- Darcy? Whassapening?”

She hasn’t been trained for this. She’s an intern, not a superspy like the Black Widow or Hawkeye. She doesn’t even have her taser- they must’ve confiscated it. Even if she could get free, Jane is in no condition to run.

“Hey boss lady,” she says, deliberately keeping her voice light. “It seems like the nice men with guns want you to do some science for them.”

“Guns?” Jane struggles to sit up. When Darcy makes as if to help, the man in black levels a gun at her and motions for her to return to her seat.

In tense situations, most people choose between fight and flight. Darcy’s brain makes the call between silence and sarcasm. “ _What’s with the mask? I though secret identities was more of a superhero thing,”_ she stalls, hoping like mad that her voice doesn’t quiver.

Behind his mask, she can see his eyes widen.

“Hurry up,” orders the white-haired man.

In one smooth motion the masked man turns, takes two steps, and punches the other man, sending him flying into what looks like a giant microscope. Returning to Darcy, he grabs her arm and pulls her towards the door he entered by.

She tries to break free but his grip is ridiculously strong. “Wait! No! What about Jane?”

She gestures desperately at her boss, who is watching groggily. The man doesn’t say anything, but she gets the distinct impression of a sigh. He lets go of her to pull Jane to her feet; when she wobbles, he tosses her over his shoulder and heads for the door, motioning for Darcy to follow.

There are two men coming around the corner, obviously checking out the commotion. The masked man is still holding his gun: two soft _pops_ and they crumple to the ground.

The masked man hustles Darcy to the end of the corridor, where she steps gingerly over the twin pools of red that she really doesn’t want to think about. After that, she loses track- it’s all twisting corridors and muffled gunshots as he runs out of ammo and reloads several times, moving all the while.

He leads them to a garage, yanking open the nearest car and motioning for Darcy to get in. Sliding her off his shoulder, he stuffs Jane in behind her and closes the door, knocking off his mask in the process. Their mysterious saviour goes around, hoists himself into the driver’s seat and has started the engine but is obviously looking for something. He looks up and focuses on a panel on the wall to their left, then looks at her, a wry twist to his lips. “ _Maybe next time we could have a little longer._ ”

While she’s still staring in shock, he slips out of the car and launches himself towards the panel. There’s some sort of keypad that he manipulates and one wall turns out to be a large door and beyond it she can see daylight. Darcy jerks into action, sliding into the driver’s seat. She doesn’t go, silently urging her soulmate to come back to the car, but even she watches, a door beside them opens and men pour out. He fires at them, and one falls with each shot, but as they return fire, his gun clicks on an empty chamber. He scrabbles at his belt to reload but he must’ve used it all during the flight from the lab because he tosses his gun aside and pulls a knife. With horror, Darcy realises he means to engage them hand-to-hand. “Let’s go!” she cries, but he shakes his head.

“I’ll keep them off you,” he calls, and maybe if it was just her she’d stay, but Jane is right there and bullets are flying. Darcy accelerates towards the exit. In the rearview mirror she sees him vaulting over a car towards yet another group of pursuers.

* * *

She doesn’t know how he does it, but there is no sign of pursuit, and within 24 hours they are back in the Tower explaining the story to the Avengers. The car itself is unmarked and untraceable, and while it is the work of a few short minutes on Google Earth to find where they were held, there was a recent gas explosion that took out the entire area.

Darcy checks her soulmark obsessively, but it stays reassuringly dark. The next morning, though, it’s been rewritten. _I remember you_ trails across her stomach. She’s heard of this happening in cases of amnesia, but she’s just glad he’s alive.

She has no idea of what’s going on; no idea who took them, or why; no idea who her soulmate really is. But she’s going to find out.

**  
**


	14. Stop Time (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned that I love y'all? Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos!
> 
> This chapter is based on the song Stop Time by Landon Austin

It takes Darcy three weeks to approach the Black Widow to ask for hand-to-hand training, and three months for her sore muscles to stop regretting it. When Natasha is reassigned to DC to join Captain America, Clint takes over her training. If they come for her again, she’ll be ready.

She pesters Tony until he makes her tiny tasers that can be worn as jewellery. Nat likes them so much that she gets a set for herself. At her request, JARVIS searches for information on the base where they were held, but according to all available records, it never existed.

Somewhere between all this, she keeps an eye on Jane. Thankfully, JARVIS seem quite adept at ensuring she eats and sleeps between the Science!. Darcy’s only had to drag Jane away from her desk twice in the last month.

* * *

With everything that happens, Darcy wakes up one morning and realises that she hasn’t left the Tower complex in four months. She simply hasn’t needed to: groceries are delivered, there’s a gym, and a pool, and even a café onsite for when Tony blows up the coffee machine.

As April rolls around, Darcy decides to visit Nat in DC.

Of course, she doesn’t actually stay with Nat. Nobody actually knows where Nat lives, and that’s just how she likes it. Instead, Darcy’s dropped off at Captain America’s apartment (“seriously, Darcy, just call him Steve”) as Nat goes to pick up Steve (“but he’s a national icon!”) for some hush-hush SHIELD mission. Something about a hijacking.

* * *

To say that Steve is surprised to find Darcy asleep on his couch would be an understatement, but once he yells at Nat for withholding information (again?), he apologises and promises to take Darcy to the Smithsonian while she’s in town.

When Nick Fury drops in, it’s hard to tell who’s more surprised. He orders her to leave, as a matter of national security. She threatens to tase him, despite her lack of a visible weapon. Their standoff only gets worse when Steve gets home, because then Fury’s shot, and Steve’s nice neighbour is a SHIELD agent, and Darcy and Steve take off in pursuit of a man with a metal arm.

Now, Darcy’s not enhanced, but she’s been training with the Avengers and Steve’s leaving a pretty easy trail to follow, so she arrives on the rooftop just in time to see a masked figure catch Steve’s shield.

“ _How did you even do that?_ ” she yells. Dark eyes turn to her, even as he launches the shield back.

There’s the shock of recognition, but Steve’s pulling her out of the way and by the time they look up, the masked man is gone. Steve’s pretty furious at her for endangering herself and proving a distraction, but cannot help but be impressed at her ability to keep up.

That night, as she waits with Nat at the hospital, she traces the words on her stomach and hopes.

* * *

Darcy distracts the guy at the Apple store as they test the USB, waits in the truck as Nat and Steve are nearly _killed_ by a missile in the middle of nowhere, gets a front-row seat as an adorable Sam Wilson falls head-over-heels for Nat. Nat flirts back, but Darcy’s somehow going to have to warn him that she only lets one person close. Even so, she’s pretty sure Nat and Clint don’t have _that_ kind of relationship. Not that she’s asked or anything. Nat can still kill her with her pinkie.

She’s the getaway driver as they interrogate Sitwell, gets the shock of her life as her apparent soulmate tears off the car door, and is thrown across the freeway by the resulting crash. She follows the sound of fighting to see Steve stare slack-jawed at her unmasked soulmate, is at his side as _holy crap_ he chokes out “Bucky!?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” floats back to Steve, followed by “ _I remember you._ ” She’s still processing this as she is arrested along with the others and rescued by Maria Hill, who is less than impressed by the number of civilians on this op. For Darcy’s lack of super-strength, SHIELD training, or wingsuit, she gets to stay behind which is completely unfair but she doesn’t even have her soulmark as proof because it’s been rewritten _again._

* * *

“Darcy, we’ve really appreciated your help so far, but tomorrow… it’s going to be dangerous.” She wants to punch that serious, worried look off Steve’s face, but dammit, he’s right.

“But he’s my _soulmate_. If I could just talk to him…”

“Even more reason to stay safe,” Nat points out. “If you’re the only one who can get through to him,” Steve looks so hurt, Darcy has to give him a quick hug as Nat continues “HYDRA will want you dead. If your new soulmark is his as well,-“

“It is,” Darcy insists stubbornly.

“-then you’ll meet him again regardless.”

So she sits, and worries, and watches, and when it’s all over she visits the Smithsonian by herself because Steve’s still in the hospital. She’s staring up his face, a flickering loop of laughter, when a figure comes up beside her. She can't tell how long they just stand there, side-by-side.

“ _Are you going to stick around this time?_ ” she demands, finally.

He’s gaunt and unshaven, but his smile is genuine as he replies “ _Always_.”


	15. Before He Cheats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's not sure he likes his soulmark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter based on the song Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood, from the album Some Hearts. I don't normally endorse property damage as appropriate revenge tactics, but this was just _begging_ to be written. Have some destructive fluff!

"Great. I haven't even met her and she hates me."

"Look on the bright side. Maybe it's not you she's talking to."

* * *

The headlamp barely cracks. Darcy purses her lips, hefts the slugger again and takes aim. Imagines it’s his lying face smirking up at her. Swings. It explodes in a shower of glass.

Bad enough that he was cheating on her. Worse still was how he was using their car, the symbol of their relationship, to do so.

They’d met last year at the SI Christmas function. Henry was funny, interesting, and completely unaware of her connection to Thor, which seems to scare potential dates off. All he knows is that she’s an administrative assistant assigned to the labs. When they each won half of a souped-up four wheel drive, she’d taken it as a sign. Instead of swapping one of the other ridiculous Christmas bonuses that Stark provided, they’d swapped phone numbers instead.

They took their car on long rides upstate to Niagara Falls, even down to Florida. Before she knew it, her stuff is at his place and she’s giving serious thought to them moving in together.

That’s when her friend spotted him making out with some blonde in a bar while Darcy was working late in the lab with Jane. She’d asked him how his night was when she saw him the next morning; he’d told her he’d had a quiet night in. The car’s GPS said otherwise.

So here she is, broken glass littering the carpark, along with flecks of paint from where she’s keyed the side of the car. She’s carved her name on the passenger seat and used the same knife to slash two of the tyres. The car is half hers, right? So she can treat her half however she likes.

There are footsteps behind her, a sharp intake of breath. Without turning around, she calls, “ _Here you go, you lying scumbag cheat._ ”

“ _But what did I do?_ ” the person behind her asks plaintively.

Darcy winces. That’s not Henry’s voice. More importantly, she knows those words.

“I, uh, thought you were someone else,” she apologises.

“Oh good. I was really hoping it was nothing I’d done.”

Darcy tries to imagine growing up with those words, gives up. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m sure we can find some way for you to make it up to me.” A pause. “So who is the lying scumbag cheat?”

“My boyfriend. Soon to be my ex. You want to come watch?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

She spins, graces her soulmate with a smile, most assuredly does not gape at the hottie behind her. “I’m Darcy.”

“Bucky. You want me to carry that for you?”

She glances at the slugger she’s still holding. “Nah. I’ll leave it here.” She lies it across the dented hood, pats it fondly. She’d taken it from his apartment earlier and it has served her revenge well.

Together, they walk into the bar. In the corner, she spots Emily, who gives her a sympathetic look and gestures to the pool tables. Her eyes go wide at the man beside her, gives Darcy a questioning look. Darcy just grins.

At the closest pool table, Henry is giving some blonde woman a very hands-on tutorial. As the white ball follows the black into a pocket, she squeals in excitement. “I got it in!”

He laughs, makes some reply Darcy can’t quite hear, pulls her in for a celebratory kiss. He doesn’t notice Darcy until she’s right beside them.

“D-Dee! I thought you were working late tonight!”

The blonde woman looks at her, confused. “Who are you? Henry, who is she?”

Darcy gives her a sympathetic look, tosses the keys onto the pool table. “I’m his girlfriend. Now his ex. I hope he’ll be more faithful to you than he was to me.”

The woman’s jaw drops and she pushes Henry away. He’s shaking his head, mouth already forming denials as she starts to cry. Darcy doesn’t stay to watch. “You can keep the car,” she yells over her shoulder. She’d thought about making a scene, but she has better things to do.

Top of that list slips an arm around her waist as they leave the bar.


	16. Love You like the Movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when your soulmate doesn’t hear the first words you say? Or, the one where Darcy is deaf and Bucky has to make an effort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this headcanon that Soulmarks are visible to all, but can only be read by the person whose skin it is until they are spoken aloud, at which point everyone can read them. It hasn't really come up before, but it actually matters today (and to some extent, in the next chapter, which is already written yay me!)  
> So this chunk of fluff is based on the song Love You like the Movies by Anthem Lights, from the album Escape.

All things considered, the accident that destroyed Darcy’s hearing was not the blow you might think. For one thing, when Darcy was seven, a stroke took away 78% of her dad’s hearing and the entire family learnt sign language in response. Secondly, and more importantly, Tony felt so guilty about the explosion, he invented selective hearing aids for Darcy. She can load up to 15 people’s voices into her device, and can set any or all of those to be the only things she hears. Tired of hearing Tony complain? No problem. (“Lewis, are you even listening? I invented those, remember?  That’s so unfair! Kids these day…”) Clint’s demanded a pair of the prototypes for himself and once the patent is processed, she reckons Tony can revolutionise the industry.

Her favourite setting is “emergency only”. Anything under a certain decibel level is simply muted, and JARVIS will let her know if anything really needs her attention. It’s perfect for getting her thesis finished.

* * *

2am is a really bad time for his arm to seize up. Then again, Stark did say to stop by the lab anytime; there’s a bot there that was specially designed to provide him with basic maintenance. The problem is that the lab floor is pretty much a maze and there’s nobody around to ask for directions.

There’s a light on ahead, so he sticks his head in, sees a woman sitting with her back to the door. “ _Excuse me, ma’am, whose lab is this?_ ”

She doesn’t react to his question, simply continues tapping away at her computer. He’s about to repeat his question when JARVIS answers for her. “This is Dr Foster’s lab, Sergeant Barnes. If you are looking for Sir’s lab, it is down the corridor to your left.”

He jumps: he’d totally forgotten about Stark’s AI. Still, he thanks JARVIS and goes to get his arm unfrozen.

* * *

Darcy’s slumped over her desk, rewording her conclusion _again_ , when Jane taps her on the shoulder.

_When did you meet your soulmate?_ she signs. After the accident, Jane began learning ASL with the level of intensity that she normally reserves for astronomical phenomena, and that’s why Darcy loves Jane. Darcy twists around to look at the mark in the gap between her top and jeans. Jane helpfully holds up a shiny metal plate as a mirror. To Darcy’s eyes, it looks as it always has, but if Jane can read it, then it means her soulmate has already spoken to her. Too bad it seems she wasn’t listening.

Darcy shrugs. “I must’ve had my hearing aid off.”

Jane’s eyes are wide. _But don’t you want to know who it is?_

“Not really. I want to get this stupid conclusion polished. Jane, my supervisor thinks I can get it _published_!”

Jane’s an academic, even though hers is a different discipline, and she knows the joy of seeing one’s work in print. (She’s seen it much more frequently since New Mexico). If Darcy doesn’t care about the words on her back, then Jane won’t either.

When Darcy’s thesis is accepted for publication, Jane celebrates by dragging her along to Tony’s Christmas party. It’ll be the first since the Falcon and the Winter Soldier joined the Avengers and Jane’s keen to gawk at them. For purely scientific purposes, naturally.

* * *

Stark’s party is crowded. Very crowded, and all of them want to meet Captain America’s best friend. Many times in his life, he’s wished the words on his hip were not quite so generic. He’s had at least three false positives tonight already, but none of them recognised his words in return.

He’s considering ducking out for some peace and quiet when Steve drags him over to two small, pretty women. He has seen both around the lab floor a few times, but hasn’t talked to either of them.

“Bucky, this is Dr Jane Foster, Thor’s soulmate, and her assistant, Darcy Lewis, best baker in the Tower. Ladies, this is my friend Bucky Barnes.”

The two smile up at him. “ _Nice to meet you,_ ” the darker haired one, Darcy, says.

“The pleasure is all mine, believe me” he replies, watching her reaction. She’s pleasantly flattered, but he is disappointed to note no recognition in her eyes.

They make small talk for a while, until Steve spots someone else he wants to introduce Bucky to. They make their apologies, and leave.

During a quiet moment, Bucky pulls Steve aside. “Hey punk, do me a favour?”

“Yeah?”

Bucky lifts his shirt slightly. “Can you read my mark?”

Steve’s brows rise as he realises he can. Beaming, he claps Bucky on the back. “Congratulations! Who is she?”

“That’s the problem.”

Steve’s forehead creases as he reads the words again, remembering all the small talk they just made. There must’ve been 15, 20 people who’d said that, or some variation thereof. “And no one recognised your words?”

“Nope.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

* * *

Now her thesis has been handed in, Darcy finds herself at loose ends. Steve’s comment on her baking the other night reminded her how long it has been, so she does an inventory check on the communal kitchen and decides to make cookies.

She leaves her hearing aid on ‘emergency only’, so the first clue that she’s not alone is when she’s straightening up from putting the butter back in the fridge and comes face to face with Bucky Barnes. He says something, but her lip-reading skills are not the strongest and her hands are too covered with flour to adjust her hearing aid.

“One moment,” she says, and goes to wash her hands. Once they are clean and dry, she switches her hearing aid to ‘general’. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“It’s Darcy, right?” he asks, one hand around the beer he had been headed to the fridge for. At her nod, he continues, “I didn’t realise you were deaf.”

She shrugs. “Tony blew something up and it took my hearing with it. He made me some pretty boss hearing aids, though.”

“But you don’t keep them on all the time?”

She grins. “I prefer to listen to music. JARVIS lets me know if anything’s really wrong, and the people that know me know how to sign.”

He surveys the racks of cookies cooling on the counter. “So this is the famous baking.”

She nods. “I’ve been busy with my thesis recently, but now it’s done, I have time to bake again.”

His gaze sharpens with interest. “What’s it about? Your thesis?”

“It’s on the socio-political ramifications of superheroes.” When his eyes don’t immediately glaze over, she continues, “Like, how do the Avengers affect the balance of power in the world, should we expect less conflict or more, how neutral should they be, that kind of stuff.”

“And what did you decide?”

Darcy tips a tray of cookies onto a plate, offers them to him. “You want the long version or the short one?”

“I’ve got time.”

That night, Bucky resolves to learn how to sign, and Darcy asks JARVIS to add his voice profile to her hearing aid.

* * *

They quickly fall into a pattern. Every Friday evening (with the odd postponement for lab disasters and world-saving) Bucky makes dinner, Darcy bakes dessert, and they watch a movie. She claims it is “an essential part of his introduction to the 21st Century”. He quickly learns Darcy has a fondness for romantic comedies that teach him absolutely nothing about the modern day, especially when more than half of them are set in the past.

Partway through Dirty Dancing, he looks over at Darcy and is struck by two things. First, the look of longing on her face as Baby and Johnny fall in love; second, how desperately he wants to give it to her. As the credits roll, he stands, offers her a hand up. She accepts, gives a little squeal of laughter as, instead of simply helping her stand, he sweeps her into an impromptu dance around the room.

“What’s this for?”

“Just getting into the spirit of the things.”

* * *

The next week (Saturday, due to Clint filling the labs with bubbles in preparation for the weekend) he takes her out dancing after their movie. It’s a little different to when he last went out, but he manages well enough. They dance until the club shuts, and then keep dancing down the road as the streets begin to fill with early morning commuters.

Two weeks later, Darcy looks up from her soufflé recipe to see Bucky standing nervously in front of her. As she watches, he signs _you complete me_. The smile that bursts across her face is worth all the ribbing he got from Barton when the archer caught him practicing in front of a mirror.

Three months after that, he surprises her with a trip to Disneyworld. They Disneybound as Belle and the Beast and share their first kiss on Main Street USA.

Four days after they get back, he surprises her in the lab with flowers. Out of curiosity, he glances down at the article she’s annotating by hand. That handwriting looks familiar…

She follows his gaze, laughs. “You can see why I don’t use pen and paper much! Mom used to call it functionally illegible, but my tablet met Jane’s coffee last night and Tony won’t get me another one when there’s a new generation arriving in two days.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that bad.”

“Nice of you to say so-“

It clicks. Since that Christmas party, he’s learnt to ignore the words on his hip, but they’ve always lurked at the back of his mind. Something must’ve shown on his face, because Darcy stops mid-sentence.

“What is it?”

Jane’s nearby and there are a bunch of interns within hearing distance. He switches to ASL. _Darcy, do you have a soulmark?_

She replies in kind: _Yeah. Don’t know who it is. It doesn’t matter._

_May I see?_

Reluctantly, she turns around, wiggles her jeans down her hips a bit to reveal his writing, running along her back. Dimly, he remembers a late-night trip to the labs.

Darcy twists to look at him, is floored by his awestruck expression. As if in a dream, he raises the bottom of his shirt, and it’s her turn to be shocked. He chuckles, his eyes suspiciously moist. _I guess you really are perfect for me._

_Yeah, but we already knew that._

He kisses her then, and maybe the fireworks are all in her head, or maybe Jane’s contraption has exploded again. Either way, it’s way better than any of those movies, because this love story is _theirs_.


	17. I Think We’re Alone Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The matchmaking wouldn't be so bad if everyone hadn't gotten involved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guyssss. I am AMAZED at how many of you loved deaf!Darcy. If inspiration hits, I may drag her out of her happy-ever-after, but for now, have another hopefully tooth-rotting story. Quick reminder that soulmarks are unreadable until spoken aloud.  
> Today's is based on the song I Think We’re Alone Now by Tiffany

It all started when Steve, that traitor, tried to deflect Natasha's matchmaking efforts onto Bucky.

"Look, Sharon's nice and all, but she's Peggy's great-niece and it's a little odd. Why don't you try finding a date for Bucky?"

Bucky scowls at his so called friend. "I'm fine, thanks."

Natasha turns an innocent smile on him and he is uneasily reminded of a cat stalking prey. "When was your last date then? 1940?”

He shakes his head, refuses to answer, but Steve chimes in "That brunette in 1942, wasn’t it? Buck always had a weakness for pretty brunettes."

Natasha looks _delighted._ Bucky is starting to feel rather uncomfortable.

“I know just the girl! Witty, confident, smart enough to annoy Stark. She’s too modern for Steve, but she’d be absolutely perfect for you.”

Though he doesn’t let it show, Bucky’s starting to get interested, right until Natasha adds “She works with Dr Foster in the lab.” That shuts him down immediately. He’s had enough of scientists to last him a lifetime.

“Not interested,” he says bluntly, but Natasha’s not convinced. He sighs internally. She’s not going to let this go, is she?

* * *

It’s nearing 4am when Darcy decides that Science! is done for the night. She’s pried Jane away from her instruments and is herding her towards the elevator when she sees a light in Tony’s lab. Given that she stopped supplying coffee two hours ago, she goes in to check. He’s slumped over, staring blearily at some prototype and doesn’t have enough energy to resist as she hauls him to his feet.

“Time for bed, Tony.”

“You’re no fun, Lewis. Why are you so mean?”

“It’s because she hasn’t had a date in eight months,” offers Jane from the doorway.

Darcy scowls. “I told you that in confidence.”

Tony perks up slightly. “You mean if we get her a date, she’ll let us be?”

“No.”

His face falls. “You’re as bad as Barnes. He won’t let me look at his arm, did you know?”

“Ooh, maybe she could go on a date with him!”

Darcy snorts. In her dreams, maybe. She’s never even met the guy. “Not going to happen. Bed. Now. Or I’ll get JARVIS to cut the power.” And then maybe she can get to her own bed, at last.

* * *

Natasha doesn’t bring up the subject for another few weeks, and Bucky starts to relax. Turns out she was just gathering ammunition and reinforcements.

He’s grabbing a bite from the common area with Steve after a particularly intense training session when Natasha and Barton stroll in, each enjoying a giant blueberry muffin larger than his fist.

“Where’d you get those?” he demands. There was nothing of the sort in the communal kitchen. He’d checked.

“Darcy brought homemade muffins to the lab,” Barton tells him smugly. “She’s a fantastic baker, always has something yummy on hand.

Natasha just smiles at him around her mouthful of muffin.

“Are there any left?” Steve inquires.

Barton laughs. “We met Thor on the way out so- oof!” He is cut off by an elbow to the ribs.

He gives the redhead beside him a dirty look but she ignores him and shrugs one slim shoulder. “You’ll have to go and see for yourself.”

“Not worth it,” Bucky decides. Steve doesn’t look convinced, but they both know the size of Thor’s appetite. They’d be lucky to get crumbs at this point.

* * *

Monday is muffin day, so Darcy is not surprised when Nat and Clint drop by. Sure, she was scared of them at first, but they are as easily attracted by baked goods as the next Tower resident. Soon after they leave, Thor enters the lab, which is also not unexpected. The twin allure of baking and Jane has the Asgardian on the lab floor more often than Tony is comfortable with. It’s not that he’s clumsy, so to speak, but he’s not always aware of his own strength and some of these machines are rather delicate.

Generally, Darcy tries to make sure he stays in Jane’s lab as much as possible. It’s easier than having to listen to Tony whine about recalibration. Today, though, Jane’s been doing Science! for long enough, so when she turns to greet Thor, Darcy steals her tablet.

“Darcy!” she shrieks when she discovers the theft.

“What? You need to have a break.”

Instead of replying directly, Jane’s expression turns sly. “Tony is right. You should date Sergeant Barnes and stop worrying about all of us.”

Darcy winces. She’d hoped that sleepy Jane would’ve forgotten that.

A smile breaks out over Thor’s face. “You are keeping company with Sergeant Barnes? That is most welcome news!”

Darcy shakes her head. “No, we’re not dating.”

Thor looks disappointed. “Why not? He is a fine warrior and a good companion.”

She’s about to reply when Jane makes an abortive attempt to reclaim her tablet. Evading her easily, Darcy manoeuvres them all into the corridor, closing the door behind them. “I’ve never even met the guy, let alone gone out with him.”

“You’re going out with whom?” Bruce sticks his head out from his lab.

“Not you too!” groans Darcy.

Bruce looks sympathetic. “Sorry. But if it helps, you should go on a date. Have a life outside all this.” He waves a hand to encompass the whole floor.

Darcy wants to give him a hug. He really is the sweetest.

* * *

Darcy’s on her weekly grocery run when she gets a call from a blocked number.

“Darcy! It’s Clint. Can you get a box of ramen, five cans of whipped cream and two boxes of jello? Please?”

“Seriously, Clint? What are you going to do with those?”

“Uhhh. Just get them? And don’t tell Tony.”

Darcy sighs. “Fine. Where do you want them?”

“Bottom shelf of the communal pantry okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, Darce, you’re a peach! So, uh, when so you think you’ll have them there?”

“Sheesh, I dunno. Hour, maybe an hour and a half?”

“Okay, that’ll work. And don’t tell Tony!”

“Got it. And if he asks, I was never involved.”

“Deal.”

* * *

Bucky’s not suspicious when Natasha invites him to spar. It’s good to practice against someone who isn’t Steve, and Natasha is skilled enough that he isn’t likely to hurt her seriously. When he tried sparring with Barton, bones were broken and he hasn’t heard the last of it since.

When he gets to the gym, Barton’s there, watching from a perch in the rafters.

“You planning to ambush me from there?” he yells up.

“Nah. I’m here to carry Tasha out if you break her leg, you- eep!”

Natasha hefts another of her knives in her left hand. “You want to repeat that?”

There’s no answer from above; when he glances up, Barton has pulled out his phone and is conspicuously looking at it instead.

“He’s sulking,” Natasha confides, eyes dancing, and sidesteps neatly as her knife is returned to the mat where she was standing. “Now, are we going to spar or not?”

* * *

Darcy’s just putting Clint’s special order away when the elevator chimes. She’s hidden behind the counter as voices approach, obviously in the middle of a conversation.

“You should’ve seen it Steve, I swear that woman has no bones. The way she dodged…” A low whistle, followed by Nat’s amused laugh.

“It’s not so difficult when you punch so slowly. You men are all strength, no speed, no finesse.”

Darcy peeks her head over the counter. Of the four figures there, she knows two well and has met one of the others briefly. She makes to duck again but Nat has spotted her.

“Darcy! Just the woman I was hoping to see.”

Darcy narrows her eyes at Clint, who spreads his hands and grins unrepentantly. Captain America doesn’t look surprised either. In fact, the only one who looks surprised is Bucky Barnes, who has a distinctly trapped air about him.

Darcy knows the feeling. It only intensifies as Jane and Thor exit the other elevator, followed by Tony and Bruce, still in discussion about some finer point of Science!.  She sighs. “Was this really necessary?” The question is aimed at Nat, but it’s open to all to answer. Still, it’s Nat who answers.

“It’s for your own good,” the redhead informs her.

Darcy shakes her head. “And to think, I bought you all donuts. Bavarian crème and all.”

She has the satisfaction of seeing Nat’s eyes glaze over at the sound of her favourite flavour. She gestures at the boxes, neatly stacked on the coffee table. As everyone glances over, she presses the blackout button on her phone. It’s meant to foil kidnappers, but she’s used it to end Science! for the day when she’s feeling particularly cranky.

The lights flash once and turn off in unison as the windows go to their highest tint setting. In the momentary confusion and ensuing darkness, Darcy sidles into the stairwell she has been edging towards for the last five minutes. Over the last year, she’s learnt that no one in the Tower seems to remember that the stairs even exist. She hides out there when she wants to be alone; JARVIS has agreed to ignore her presence as long as she is in no physical distress.

* * *

Bucky’s never had much of a sweet tooth, which is why in the moment before the lights go out he’s the only one to see Darcy slip through a door he’s never noticed before. Desperate to escape his well-meaning friends, he follows.

She’s three flights down when she notices the sound of pursuit. She stops to listen and is nearly bowled over by Bucky as he comes around the corner. He catches her as she stumbles, opens his mouth to apologise, but she holds a finger to her lips and points upwards.

Understanding her meaning, he nods, and in silence they steal down another flight of stairs. When he turns to go down another, she tugs his arm towards a door. It opens into a maze of maintenance corridors, but she leads the way around a set of corners and through another door to a tiny balcony. It’s practically invisible from the outside, he judges, coming out behind that massive A on the outside of the Tower. Only when she’s closed the door does she relax.

“ _I think we’re alone now,_ ” she says, leaning back and closing her eyes with relief.

His eyebrows rise towards his hairline. “ _That was the neatest escape I’ve ever seen._ ”

Her eyes pop open, wide and blue. “No way.”

His lips quirk upwards. “It seems so. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine?”

Darcy rolls up her top to reveal his writing spiralling around her navel. He pulls up his tee to reveal her writing looping across a very nice set of abs.

“Huh. I always assumed I was going to get kidnapped.” A beat, and then, “we can’t tell them. They’ve already got this superiority complex already.”

He shrugs. “What do you suggest?”

* * *

Their charade of disinterest lasts right until Bucky’s sparring with Steve and he unthinkingly yanks off his top to wipe his face. He puts it back on to find Steve staring at him. “Buck, when did you meet your soulmate?”

Natasha’s there too, practicing with Barton, and she pulls his top up to inspect his stomach. A satisfied grin splits her face. “I know that handwriting!”

Darcy’s right: their friends really are insufferable with pride. Somehow, they can’t bring themselves to care.


	18. Pour Some Sugar On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Saga of the First Great Prank War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was suggested by [uconnhuskiesfan_wintershockship](http://archiveofourown.org/users/uconnhuskiesfan_wintershockship) yesterday and while most outside prompts will take a little longer, this happened. Consider it a bonus chapter. Merry Christmas!
> 
> This chapter is based on the song Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard, from the album Hysteria.

Darcy wipes off the mirror and stares at her hair in horror. It is  _green_. Slipping into a tank top and sweatpants, she bursts into the common area with a yell.

“BARTON!”

Clint looks over, can’t stop a grin from spreading over his face. “Going for the Joker look there, Darce?”

She points a trembling finger at him. “I don’t have proof, but I know I was you who put the dye in my shampoo. You are so dead.”

He holds up his hands. “Ooh, I tremble in terror, spinach-top”

With an inarticulate screech, Darcy turns her back and flounces away. She doesn’t notice interested eyes follow her back to the elevator.

The next day, Clint stomps onto the lab floor with no eyebrows. Darcy gives him a smug look from behind Bruce.

She’s less smug when the coffee machine only pours cold water. Worse, Tony takes the lack of coffee as a personal insult, so as well as buying three more machines, he gets involved, programming a bot to follow Clint around spraying perfume.

Soon, the entire Tower is involved in a prank war. From fart bombs in accounting to fake blood in HR, nowhere is safe. The only people not involved happen to be the rest of the Avengers: Bruce and Thor because no-one wants to push them too far, Natasha because _everyone_ is scared of her, and Captain America, because his little speech post-Noodle Incident left four interns in tears, and they weren’t even in the room. Oh, and there’s that guy who’s staying in his apartment, but he’s also off limits because no one wants to risk Cap’s disappointed face.

Of course, it all comes to an abrupt halt when Pepper Potts returns to the Tower.

* * *

Clint is fuming. He had the prank to end all pranks ready to pull on Darcy, but the aftermath would have hit Tony and now Pepper. He can’t get a break, and grumbles as much to Tasha.

Darcy’s a bit more sanguine about the blanket ban on pranks. Her latest was all set up, pretty much impossible to reverse at this point, and very unlikely to impact Pepper, so she judges it safe to leave in place. After all, dismantling it would cause just as much mess as triggering it. Just in case, she decides to give Pepper a heads up.

* * *

He’s managed to keep his head down as the Tower went mad. Stay in Steve’s room, order food in under Steve’s name, and don’t touch _anything_. When Pepper Potts declares the prank war over, he figures it’s safe enough to venture out to the common area.

The communal kitchen is giant, with a walk-in fridge and an industrial oven. It’s also considerably cleaner today than it has been for the last few weeks. Taking it as a good sign, he goes to get a bottle of soda. The second he lifts it from its place on the shelf, he knows he’s made a terrible mistake.

The top come off the bottle with a soft _pop_ , and he is suddenly sprayed in the face with soda. It’s more than the classic shaken bottle though, because a packet on an upper shelf was tipped over when he took the bottle, and there is a steady trickle of _something_ grainy pouring onto his head. From the sound of it, it appears to be popping candy. Candy Apple, if he’s not mistaken.

* * *

After a talk with Pepper, Darcy decides to at least _try_ and take down her booby trap. She’s actually outside the fridge when it goes off, and she has her phone at the ready for whoever was caught. If she’s going to get into trouble for this, she might as well get photos.

She is prepared for Sam (it was his favourite flavour of soda) or Clint (who will drink anything that someone else has bought). She isn’t prepared to come face-to-face with 5’11 of unimpressed ex-Soviet assassin.

“ _I take it this is your handiwork?_ ”

Darcy gulps, nods, takes one more photo, then bolts for the elevator. She’s barely past the counter when he catches her by the wrist, hand still sticky with soda. “I thought Pepper ordered the end of the pranks?”

“ _I was coming to take it down, I swear!_ ”

He stills. “Did you just say what I thought you said?”

“If you though I said your soulmark, well, you said mine, so I guess, yeah?”

“Well, then, what are we going to do about this?”

The minx looks up at him from beneath lowered lashes. “I’ve got some ideas…”

* * *

When Clint comes to steal some of Sam’s soda from the fridge, he is greeted by the sight of two green-tinted brunettes twined around each other, making out. He’s about to make some wisecrack when Barnes looks up, catches his eye for a challenging instant.

Clint backs out of the common room without saying a word and goes to find Tasha. She’s less scary than the idea of those two on the same side.


	19. Sparks Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's 'lightning sister' indeed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! This was going to be the fluffiest of plotless pieces, but apparently that's not an option. It kinda grew and grew until I had to finish it off so I can go to bed. Hopefully you'll still find it sweet.
> 
> This chapter is based on Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift, from the album Speak Now. Now, some of you may argue that these fics are based on my Spotify playlist, and they are, but I have local files so that's why I get to write from a Taylor Swift song.

She'd love to blame HYDRA, but really, it's all the fault of her best friend.

One day in June, Darcy's sitting beside Jane, sorting her notes when Jane hands her something with an absent "hold this". Darcy should know by now never to listen to absent Jane, because absent Jane _forgets_. This is why, ten minutes later, she's still holding the thing when Jane flicks a switch.

Electricity fills her, locking her into place so she can neither let it go nor even scream as lightning fills her veins. As suddenly as it began, it cuts off. "What the hell, Jane?"

Jane looks up from her monitor in bemusement, which quickly changes to horror. "Darcy, why are you holding that? It could be dangerous!"

Darcy puts it down, flexing her fingers. "No kidding. I was holding it because you gave it to me, genius."

Jane immediately looks contrite. "I'm sorry. It must not have worked then, which is weird because the read outs looked right."

"If by working you mean shot five zillion volts into me..."

Jane perks up. "Really? What was it like?"

She can still feel the echo of it thrumming through her body. "It freaking _hurt_ , Jane."  As she speaks, a shower of sparks jumps out of her hands, singing the paper in front of her.

“Jane,” she says slowly because if she spoke faster that would be panicking and she is certainly not panicking, “what is that machine?”

* * *

Once she cut through the Science!babble, it seems Jane was investigating how to infuse objects with electricity. Darcy’s not really sure why, and at this point, she doesn’t really care, because whenever she gets annoyed, she shoots sparks. Mostly from her hands, but one evening Tony earns an almost literal death glare for suggesting she and Pepper start a band. The suggestion wasn’t terrible, but the poster he’d mocked up earned the brunt of her ire.

By unspoken agreement, the Avengers keep her secret. On the whole, they’re pretty supportive, especially as Thor is openly proud of his “lightning sister in truth”. After she nearly fries Tony, Clint has kept his wisecracks to a minimum. Surprisingly, or not, depending on your perspective, in the aftermath of the accident she gets close to Bruce.

He’s never needed the level of supervision that Jane and Tony do: he’s pretty good at going to bed and the worst he does is enable Tony’s idiocy. But one day, after seeing her burst into tears because she lost her temper and zapped Jane (who is busy swearing up and down that _it didn’t hurt, really_ ), he invites her into his lab for a cup of tea. After all, he is an expert on controlling his temper.

As the tea brews, and she wipes her eyes with his handkerchief (and the very fact that he carries a hanky is enough to cheer her up a bit), Darcy asks the question that’s been bugging her since seeing the footage from the Battle of New York.

“How do you do it? How do you keep it under control like you do?”

He smiles, and it’s clear he’s been expecting this or something like it.

“People think that it’s just about keeping calm, and it’s not. It’s about keeping the anger locked up, bubbling away until I need it.”

This sounds rather unhealthy to Darcy, and she tells Bruce so. He laughs in response.

“It’s not about repressing all emotion until it boils over. You’re right, that is unhealthy. It’s just about not letting the louder emotions affect you until you want them to. You need some sort of outlet, though. I meditate to let some of the anger drain off. Of course, the Other Guy is pretty good at letting it go too.”

His tone is dry and oh-so-slightly pained; impulsively, Darcy leans over and gives him a hug. “Thanks, Bruce,” she tells him, quite sincerely.

He flushes slightly and rearranges his glasses.

* * *

After talking with Bruce, Darcy does start to feel like this isn’t the end of the world. She can do pretty much the things she did before without leaving scorch marks on everything. She even manages to yell at Tony without _any_ sparks, though she does let some off in the specially insulated room afterwards. Scientists might be more trouble than they’re worth, but Tony’s billions sorta make up for it.

She should’ve known it was too good to last.

* * *

She’s out getting coffee when some idiot tries to steal her bag. Without thinking about it, she fires a bolt of electricity at him in the middle of Park Avenue. He drops like a stone and people start staring. There’s a minor public outcry until it is discovered that she lives with the Avengers. Then, they assume she’s another superhero in training and public interest dies down.

SHIELD, however, are very interested indeed.

She assumes the first job offer is a joke and refuses politely. Five job offers later, each more generous than the last, and she’s getting rather nervous. They want something from her, and she’s pretty sure it’s not her political science degree, no matter what they say.

When the next job offer comes, even Jane is astounded at how much they want to give her. “Just think, Darcy! You can use your degree. At least see what it’s like. If it doesn’t pan out, there will always be a place at the Tower for you.”

She’s not convinced, but Jane’s optimism is contagious. She did poli-sci to change the world. Maybe now she’ll get the chance to do so.

* * *

She’s assigned to a base in Seattle. Her work is interesting, her colleagues are friendly enough, and her powers are never mentioned once. It’s a bit lonely on the other side of the country, so she keeps her hacking skills up by taking a peek at SHIELD files. Only hers, so there’s no actual invasion of privacy. There’s a firewall, though, one that takes her weeks to get through, all the way into December. When she does, she starts shooting sparks for the first time since moving.

She’s on an index for people with powers. She’s marked ‘potential asset’, ‘acquired’, and on the list for ‘compliance therapy’, whatever that is. Under ‘weaknesses’, she finds Jane: ‘do not approach unless asset goes rogue’, ‘forced acquisition not recommended (see: Thor)’, and worst of all, ‘eliminate if in possession of compromising information’.

She doesn’t understand most of it until she feels the gun at her neck.

“Miss Lewis, please step away from the terminal.”

She does so slowly, turning to face the station chief and two of the security team.

“What is this? What do you want with Jane?”

“Dr Foster will be fine, as long as you give her no cause to suspect otherwise. Same goes for the rest of the Avengers and your family.”

“You expect me to lie to them?” Her voice trembles. She _sucks_ at lying. Her family are doomed the next time they Skype.

“Oh, Miss Lewis, we expect far more of you than that. HYDRA has great plans for- aah!”

He had lost his focus for a moment, and in that opportunity she reached inside of her for that pool of anger, sending electricity arcing between the three agents in front of her. They collapse to the ground, unconscious, and she runs.

She doesn’t bother to stop by her rooms. There’s nothing personal there: all her things are in storage for when she got a flat in town but she kept putting it off, though it now seems less and less likely. Instead, she exits through the office block that is this branch’s cover and disappears into the crowd.

She buys a bus fare up to Vancouver with her credit card, hitchhikes south to Oregon. She doesn’t dare contact Jane or any of the Avengers. Besides, she left her phone in the base. She’ll have to do this by herself.

* * *

And that’s how, three weeks later, she finds herself alone in a bar.

Well, not completely alone. As she’s downing her third drink, a man enters the bar alone. “Look!” she crows to the bartender. “I’m not the only loner here!”

He sighs, polishing a glass. “Lady, it’s Christmas Eve. All sensible people are at home with their families. I shoulda closed hours ago.”

“Oh, you’re such a downer.” She turns to the newcomer, who hasn’t moved from his spot by the door. There’s something about him that sends all her senses on alert, but she’s tired of running, tired of hiding. “ _Did you know you’re standing under mistletoe?_ ”

He stills, one hand on what she’s pretty sure is a gun of some sort. “ _Well, that’s a problem doll, because you’re all the way over there._ ”

She stares. Behind her, the bartender plucks her empty glass from her hand. “Go shoot sparks away from my bar, you’re going to leave marks.” She shoots him an incredulous glance and he shrugs. “This is Portland. Weird is normal.”

As if in a dream, she slips off the stool. She can feel the electricity thrumming through her. Before she knows it, she’s standing in front of her soulmate, one hand on his chest. “Are you here to kill me?” she asks, low enough that the bartender can’t hear her. No point in getting him involved.

“Are you going to run?” he replies, face impassive.

“Not anymore,” she says. “I’m tired of running. I think I might fight instead.”

His lips quirk. “You think you could take me?”

She rolls her eyes. “Did they brief you or not? I could drop you where you stand.”

“They told me to knock you out from a distance, bring you in,” he murmurs.

“Wanna try it?” She holds her hand up in invitation, dripping sparks. It’s surprisingly easy. Sometime over the last few months, control has become second nature. The sparking at the bar was the first slip in ages.

“I’d much rather do this instead,” he says and kisses her.

“Okay, outside,” yells the bartender. They glare at him. “I’m closing up. My kids’ll be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow.”

Her soulmate looks down at her. “There’s a team outside. How are we going to do this?”

She looks over at the bartender. “There’s a back exit, right?” At his nod, she looks back and grins. “If you go out the front, I’ll take the back. Meet you outside?”

She zaps three agents on her way out and rounds the corner to the front where her soulmate stands, gun in hand, long hair dripping in the pouring rain. Unable to resist, she wolf-whistles. He turns to face her, drops the gun. “Those sparks going to hurt me, doll?”

She grins. “Come over here and find out.”

There’s a secret Nazi society inside a secret government agency that wants her dead or under their control, her soulmate was sent to capture her, and Grandma Lewis is going to kill her for missing the family Christmas dinner. It’s time to stop running and start fighting back.

Right now, though, she’s going to kiss her soulmate as a clock strikes twelve. _Merry Christmas._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This totally did not go how I was expecting it to go. If i do expand this (big IF), I might redo some of it because it's really two parts but one is just Darcy. Hmmm.


	20. A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late night conversations are the _best_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since everyone was so nice about yesterday's chapter, I will expand it, probably into its own story. 
> 
> For now, though, have a slice of pavlova (pavlova is a baked NZ dessert often enjoyed at Christmas made of sugar and egg whites; I always aim for sweetness and as for eggs, well, Ducky totally count). 
> 
> This chapter is based on the song A.M. by One Direction, from the album Made in the A.M. I hope y'all are taking notes here- these songs are on my playlist because I really enjoy listening to them, and I hope you do too!

As far as parties went, this one had been pretty good. Tony had invited both the X-Men and the Fantastic Four, and wonder of wonders, no one had started a fight. It was such a miracle, Darcy was prepared to forgive the scorch mark on her hip if Johnny bought her a new dress.

She'd been able to catch up with Bobby, and Kitty, and Anna Marie. In fact, she's managed to talk to everyone but the guest of honour himself, who at this moment is bidding farewell to the last of the guests.

This is Darcy's favourite part of the parties. The after-party, so to speak, like in high school but with less illegal alcohol. She grabs an ice tea (Long Island, of course), and settles herself on the couch next to Thor. She's content to just watch as the Avengers try and lift his hammer, and is pretty sure Steve could pick it up it if he really wanted. Like, it totally shifted! He was probably trying to save Thor's feelings. Also, he's probably not comfortable with the whole ruler of Asgard thing, either. Especially not now his old buddy is back at the Tower.

The Avengers start swapping what improbable tales of heroism it would take to prove oneself worthy. Thor simply smiles inscrutably and Darcy decides to follow his lead. If all it took was heroism, then everyone in the room (save her) should be able to lift it.

* * *

He's glad the party is over. While it was interesting to meet the other teams, he still feels a bit twitchy around so many people who can kill him. He's a lot more comfortable in this smaller group. This conversation afterwards, this is... nice. It reminds him somewhat of the Howling Commandos, swapping stories in the woods of Nazi Germany.

He didn't try to lift the hammer. He's not sure if he wants to.

Tony's still trying to get a look at his arm. He knows he'll have to give in sometime, if only because he was never taught even basic maintenance, but for now, he's enjoying the more and more outrageous blandishments Tony is offering.

"Not a yacht, Barnes? How about a cruise ship? I've got a friend who has a nice cruise ship, I'm sure I can get it for you..."

* * *

Sometime after midnight, Jane's phone beeps. She jumps to her feet. Apparently there's some phenomenon that can only be observed in the next few hours. Normally Darcy would go with Jane, if only to keep her company, but Thor is also standing and Darcy does not want to be trapped in a lab with the two of them at this time of night.

Pepper has a morning meeting and drags Tony away from Barnes and off to bed. Bruce has been talking to Nat, but just made a speedy exit with a rather befuddled expression. Nat leans back with a sigh, then asks Clint if he wants to spar.

Within minutes, Darcy is left in the lounge with two supersoldiers. She should probably make her excuses as well, but this couch is far too comfortable and she's not particularly tired.

She’d missed Steve, and tells him as much. “The Tower wasn’t the same without you bossing everyone around. Did you meet any nice girls in Hungary to boss you around?”

Steve groans. “You’re as bad as Nat.”

“Learned from the best. Come on Stevie, spill." When he doesn't answer, she turns to his companion. " _Was he as bad as this during the war_?”

Bucky chokes on his drink.

Steve turns an outraged face on his one-time friend. “What do you mean by that? I wasn’t that bad!”

He has no idea how to respond to her, but Steve’s question is easy enough to answer. “Come on punk, you had all those chorus girls and no idea what to do with any of them!”

“Bet he learned how to do their hair and makeup. Steve Rogers, a girl’s best friend.”

Steve narrows his eyes at them. “Are you two ganging up on me?”

Twin nods. Steve sighs.

* * *

By 2am, Darcy is expounding on the roots of the Cold War and the accompanying political ideologies because hello, poli-sci grad.

By 3am, she’s moved on to the fall of the Berlin Wall and the rise of the US and Western Hegemony. Bucky is happy to listen; while he might’ve lived though some of these events, his perspective was limited, to say the least. He’s finding his soulmate’s breadth of knowledge impressive, but now the moment has passed, he is no longer sure how to talk to her. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice or mind his reticence.

At 4am, she’s somehow got Steve pouring his heart out about the problems he sees in modern America: police brutality, persistent discrimination and stereotyping, and an excess of prisons. He’s even offering solutions, which Darcy modifies and rebuffs with cheerful equanimity.

“But that distorts the entire point of democracy!” Steve protests, then pauses. “How did we get to talking about this?”

Darcy shrugs. “Beats me. That’s why I love morning conversations. You just kinda keep-“ she is interrupted by a gigantic yawn “-talking. It’s a real pity I’m not going to remember much of it.”

And with that, she leans forward onto Bucky’s chest and falls asleep.

* * *

She can’t work out where she’s sleeping. She doesn’t expect to be taken back to her room, but normally someone makes sure she’s on a couch. Instead, she’s pretty sure she’s lying on someone. At least she’s pretty sure she’s got all her clothes on.

She cracks an eyelid. _Please don’t be Clint,_ she thinks, but it’s not his short blonde hair or admittedly well-muscled chest that she sees. The chest is well-defined, sure, but leaner, and the head above hers has long dark hair. It’s only when she notices the sun gleam off the arm holding her that it clicks.

She wiggles a little, trying to get free, but the arm merely tightens as its owner slumbers on. Giving up, Darcy pokes a finger into his side. Bucky startles awake immediately, sitting bolt upright and looking around for the threat.

Once satisfied the area is clear, he gives her an unimpressed look. _“If you ever tell anyone I’m ticklish, I’ll tell Jane who really broke her omnispector.”_

She stares. “How did you know that? She still blames Tony.”

“You told me.”

Dimly, she remembers talking, but he just said her words, which meant they were the first time... “Did we seriously not talk at all last night?”

“You talked a lot. I talked too, just not to you. Didn’t really know what to say. Never met my soulmate before.” He rubs the back of his neck, somehow unable to look her in the eye. Unfortunately, he catches Steve’s gaze. The blonde was dozing on the other couch, but now he’s grinning like that cat in Becky’s storybook.

“You two are soulmates? That’s fantastic!”

Bucky glances over at Darcy. She’s actually _blushing,_ but as he watches, she smiles, the perfect picture of innocence. “Now all we need to do is find you a girl, Steve. We can double date!”

“We could set him up with a dating service,” Bucky offers.

“Ooh, what about Tinder?”

The smile drops off Steve’s face as he realises exactly just how much trouble they’re going to be. Oh, this is going to be _fun_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we come full circle to another party prompted by another One Direction song. Don't worry, this isn't the end of these! I'm just going on holiday over New Year's, and while I may still be writing, I won't be uploading any of it until mid-Jan. If you have any prompts you want me to write from, now is the time to let me know!
> 
> Have a safe and happy New Year, and I'll see y'all in 2016!


	21. Upside Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood crushes rarely work out, especially when the crush is supposed to be dead. Thankfully, there's a definite line between 'supposed to' and 'is'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! I hope y'all had a fantastic New Years- I know I did! I got a lot of time off and have a heap of plot bunnies I want to write (and I promise I'll finish What You Did to My Heart and some of the prompts I've been given, as well). Unfortunately, I very suddenly got a new job today, so I can't promise updates as regular as before Christmas. I'll do my best, though.
> 
> This chapter is based on Upside Down by A*Teens, from the album Teen Spirit  
>  _I'll go crazy if I can't get next to you_

If anyone had asked Darcy her favourite subject in ninth grade, the answer would have been, without a doubt, history. This would come as a great surprise to her teachers, for it was the one subject in which she routinely got D’s rather than A’s. She would deny it if ever confronted with the truth, but she had spent far too many nights staring dreamily at her textbook instead of studying. Jane knew, of course. Those nights in Puente Antiguo had been filled with many a tequila-fuelled heart-to-heart.

It didn’t bother her too much when Captain America moved into the Tower. He had never been the focus of her affections. It got harder when he went out one day and brought Bucky back with him the next.

She learnt of his presence only as she was headed from Tony’s lab back to Jane. She turns the corner, and coming towards her is a scene straight from her history books: Captain America with his friend Bucky Barnes. She may have forgotten to breathe.

Granted, he wasn’t the clean shaven soldier she’d studied. He was a bit more battered, a bit more rugged. It only made him hotter.

Deep in conversation, they both acknowledged her presence with a nod, and turned the corner away from her. She's still standing there when Jane comes to find her, half an hour later.

"Darcy, are you ok?"

Darcy nods, a dreamy smile on her face, then shakes herself back to reality. "Sorry, high school flashback. You finished with the oscillator yet?"

Fine. She has a crush. At least she won't see him too often.

She didn't count on Tony's passion for all things mechanical.

* * *

"Double shot espresso with cookies, Tony, as requested."

"Thanks, Lewis"

"You got a moment, Stark?" comes from behind her.

Tony glances up, grins. "For that arm, Barnes, anytime. Come and sit down."

She turns, feels her mouth go dry. Bucky Barnes is standing in the doorway, his left arm hanging oddly, a frustrated look on his face. He gives her a distracted nod as he enters the room. It’s probably not a good time for an introduction.

"Get that shirt off so I can have a better look." Tony says as she leaves.

Neither man notice the _thunk_ as Darcy walks into a door.

* * *

"Darcy! Concentrate!" Her latest daydream is interrupted by Jane snapping her fingers in front of her face. "What is wrong with you? Normally you're the one doing this to me!" She follows Darcy's gaze to where Bucky Barnes sits in Tony's lab, now a semi-regular occurrence. Darcy blesses whoever designed the labs with so many windows. A delighted smile breaks over Jane's face. "Ohhhh. That's what."

Darcy blushes. "Stop staring at him."

"Pot. Kettle. Black." Jane dodges Darcy's half-hearted attempt to swat her away. "No, I think it's cute! You should introduce yourself."

Darcy's face goes from pink to crimson. "I've tried! But I can't, it's like my throat seizes up. It's driving me crazy." The last time she decided to walk right up and say hello, she'd gotten three steps before her traitorous feet sent her in the opposite direction.

"Someday, Jane. But not today, because it is 3 o'clock and you haven't had lunch."

Jane almost pouts. "But Darcy..."

"Food, Janie. Then Science!"

* * *

Honestly, these sessions with Tony were not as bad as he'd been dreading. He tried to ignore the science-y parts of the lab floor as much as possible, but his arm was working smoother than ever, and miracle of miracles, when Tony was working, he actually _shut up_. It was actually kind of peaceful.

Of course, this thought had no sooner crossed his mind than the labs were rocked by a soundless explosion. He's on his feet before he's consciously processed it.

"JARVIS, what was that?" Tony demands.

"It appears that Dr Foster has had an accident, sir" came the reply, after a moment.

"What was she doing?"

"Dr Foster was investigating applications of artificial gravity."

Bucky groans. This is why he tried to avoid scientists. They were always mucking about with things they shouldn't. Like Steve. And his mind. "JARVIS? Do they need help?"

A pause, then "Miss Lewis does generally appreciate assistance in these situations, Sergeant Barnes."

"Who's she?"

"Lewis is Foster's assistant." Tony answers. "You haven't met her yet? She normally stops this kind of thing from happening."

They hurry to what Bucky assumes is Dr Foster's lab. Curiously, it appears to be empty. Completely. No desks, no machines, and no source for the yelling he can hear through the glass

"I told you not to push the button, and what did you do? You pushed the button!"

"It was perfectly safe! All my calculations were correct!"

"Obviously not, otherwise we wouldn't be bouncing off the ceiling."

Bouncing off the-? Bucky steps closer to the window, looks up. Sure enough, two brunettes and a full lab's worth of equipment are floating by the ceiling. Carefully, he opens the door. As his tentative first steps don’t send him floating upwards, he decides it’s safe to go further.

Beside him, Tony is cackling. "I've seen this movie," he calls."All you need to do is start crying, and that's the end of your tea party on the ceiling."

One brunette makes a rude gesture, seemingly unconcerned by how she’s actually _standing on the ceiling_. "I'll make you cry, Tony."

"Ooh, I'm scared, Lewis."

She lunges at him, pushing off the ceiling to swipe at his head. She doesn’t get far before bouncing back upwards, reminding Bucky of nothing more than those balloons on a string at Coney Island. Not that he'd ever say such a thing out loud, of course.

His snicker may have been too loud though, because the woman who must be Miss Lewis is glaring at him too. “ _If you make any cracks about loving to laugh or jolly holidays, I swear, I’ll turn you both inside out.”_

Bucky clamps his mouth shut and mimes zipping his lips. Miss Lewis- his soulmate?- turns back to Dr Foster. “Just turn off the machine, Jane, and maybe we can be reacquainted with the ground sometime in the near future.”

“But I don’t know _how_!” wails the other brunette, obviously Dr Foster.

“Have you tried pushing the button again?” suggests Miss Lewis.

Dr Foster makes a face, then starts swimming- there’s really no other word for it- over to the largest machine in the room. Just as she reaches it, Miss Lewis yells “Wait!”

All eyes turn to her. “You two should probably leave the room, just in case. Also, I don’t want to drop on my head if this works.” She reaches up, grasps the light fixture by her feet. “Okay, go ahead.”

Face set in grim determination, Dr Foster waits until the two men are watching through the window before pressing a button. For a moment, nothing happens, but then Bucky’s ears pop and everything drops back to the ground. Everything except Miss Lewis, who is now hanging some metres above the ground, which is now covered in lab debris.

Dr Foster obviously didn’t think to follow her assistant’s example, because she’s crumpled over her contraption, but as Bucky watches, she stands up, brushes herself off, and surveys the mess. “Oops.”

“”Oops” is right. I’m so not helping clean that up.” Miss Lewis looks over at Bucky, who is standing in the doorway. “A little help here?”

 _“Are you still going to turn me inside out?_ ” he asks cautiously.

As he watches, her eyes go wide and her face flushes scarlet. “On second thoughts, I think I’ll just stay up here.”

* * *

This should be the most romantic moment of her life: meeting her childhood crush and finding he’s her soulmate. Instead, she yelled at him and now she’s hanging from the ceiling.

He makes his way through the lab until he is standing beneath her again, boots crunching over no doubt priceless equipment. Holding his arms out, he looks up at her. “It’s just a little drop. I’ll catch you, I promise.”

She tries to let go; she really does. But her fingers don’t want to cooperate, staying stubbornly clamped around the perceived safety of the fixture. It doesn’t matter, though, because her grip is slipping. With a shriek, she drops into her soulmate’s arms.

He catches her bridal style with a grin. “See, I caught you. Mama always told me the right girl wouldn’t just drop into my lap. I guess she was actually wrong about something.”

She buries her face in his shoulder. “Could we just pretend this never happened?”

“Nope. Didn’t manage to catch your name though…”

Darcy groans, embarrassment momentarily forgotten. “Really? _Really?_ It’s Darcy. Darcy Lewis.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Darcy. I havta ask, what’s so terrible about jolly holidays, anyway?”

“You haven’t seen Mary Poppins?” Incredulity chases the last shreds of her shyness away. “It’s a classic!”

He grin grows impossibly wider, and it’s like the sun coming out. “I suppose you’ll have to show me.”

She feels an answering smile come to her face. “I suppose I will.”


	22. Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy crochets to keep her hands busy, but also to meet her soulmate. Kinda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based on the song Undone - the Sweater Song by Weezer, as suggested by [HKThauer](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HKThauer/pseuds/HKThauer). This one was difficult! I had some of it immediately, but the rest took a little longer to coalesce.
> 
> Quick reminder that soulmarks can only be read by other people once they've been spoken aloud.

Darcy tried to get into knitting. Really, she did. But she could never keep her stitch count even, and those suckers kept dropping and multiplying, leaving holes and bumps all through an otherwise serviceable scarf. She even paid for lessons at the local yarn store, the grandmothers all charmed by a young girl determinedly battling her yarn.

As she drops her knitting _again_ and loses all her stitches, a tearful Darcy explains she’s doing this “for soulmate reasons”. The grannies all listen, and nod, and Granny Monica makes her a cup of tea and suggests learning crochet, “because you only have to deal with one stitch at a time, dear. It’s not like anyone knows the difference.”

Somehow, the shift from needles to a hook makes all the difference. Soon, Darcy’s moved from granny squares to leg warmers and lacy shawls. She makes matching headbands for her entire first year dorm at Culver. When her sister has twins, she presents her with matching pink and blue blankets.

She finds she actually listens better when she’s doing something with her hands. Better still, it fills the hours in the van with Jane and her equipment. She carries a giant handbag so her current project can go wherever she does, like Norway and Avengers Tower.

The grannies were right. Even though she’s clearly doing crochet, she gets false positives all the time. When someone inquires _“what are you knitting?_ ” she simply sets her jaw and shifts the beanie to a better angle.

 _“It’s crochet, not knitting. Does no one know the difference?_ ” she snaps.

* * *

He knows those words. But she deserves better that him. Hell, he’s not much of a person, let alone worthy of a soulmate. So he just replies, “does that make you crotchety?”

It’s hard to tell because she doesn’t look up from her work, but he can feel the eye roll from here.

He tells himself he’ll stay away from her, let her be, but the next night, he asks again.

“I told you, it’s not knitting!”

“But you never did tell me what you were knitting.”

At her glare, he holds up her hands in surrender. “Okay, what are you crocheting?”

She relents, and tells him. He must look suitably impressed, because she asks what colour he’d like his beanie to be. “Tony’s red and gold, Bruce’s green with a purple pompom, Thor wants grey and red, Clint’s asked for black and purple. This one’s for Nat.” She holds it up: it’s pure black. “Steve’s red, white and blue, obviously, but I’ll need to work out a new pattern for that one...”

Listening to her makes him feel warm inside. Deep inside, something that might once have been called a heart starts to thaw. When she asks again, he requests one the same pattern as Steve’s but in black, red and grey.

When she’s finished them all, he bullies, bribes, and cajoles the rest of the Avengers into wearing them for the SI Christmas card. Overnight, the tower is deluged by requests. Pepper convinces Darcy to make a few more and they auction them off. The look on Darcy’s face when her “limited editions” raise over $3 million for charity convinces him it was all worth it.

 _Friends,_ he decides. _Friends is safe._

* * *

It becomes some kind of tradition. Whenever he comes back from a mission, the first thing he does is search her out and say “What are you knitting?”

She’s only thrown her ball of yarn at him once. It got him right on the nose, but then he ran off with it, weaving a web around the furniture that took _forever_ to unravel.  After that, she’s stuck to throwing spare hooks and her stitch markers.

It’s a comfortable friendship they have. She crochets, he snarks, she snarks right back. There’s something there that could be something more, but he’s never nudged the conversation in that direction, so she’s content to let it go. Besides, she has a soulmate out there somewhere.

* * *

It’s pretty much a normal Tuesday when the sprinklers go off on the lab floor. After telling Tony off and sending him upstairs as punishment, Darcy returns to Jane’s lab, where she routinely keeps a change of clothes. She strips off her sodden tshirt and is wringing out her hair when Jane gives a choked snort from behind her.

“ _That’s_ your soul mark?”

Darcy feels her eyebrows meet her hairline. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It does explain a lot though. So who is he?”

She blinks as the full implications of Jane’s question sinks in. “I- don’t know…”

She needs to think. That evening, she pulls out an old project from her stash of works-in-progress. She hasn’t added to it in months, but today, it feels appropriate. She’s working away at it when Bucky plonks himself down in the armchair opposite and asks his usual question.

At his words, she nearly drops her stitch. _Surely it couldn’t be that simple._ She struggles, but succeeds in keeping her voice even as she replies, “It’s a sweater. For my soulmate.”

Watching through her lashes, she sees him freeze and she continues in a matter-of-fact tone. “Funny thing about crochet, and this pattern in particular, is that it’s all one piece. If I handed you this thread and walked away, it would soon be like the sweater never existed and I can use the wool for something else.” She sets the sweater on her lap and leans forward, careful to keep the loop on her hook- for now.

“Tell me, Bucky: am I wasting my wool?”

His jaw works for a few seconds, but then he slumps. “You deserve better than me.”

She leans back, raises an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t I get a say in that?”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, head in his hands, and she would be more angry if she couldn’t see just how obviously sorry he was.

Instead, she just replies, “that’s a good start. What now?”

He seems unwilling, or unable to answer, so she returns her attention to the sweater in her lap. “Work out what you want, then get back to me. But don’t take too long, there are a lot of things I could be using this wool for.”

He doesn’t come by the common area the next day, or the day after that, and then some Hydra-incited unrest in Europe threatens to explode into a civil war so the Tower gets very quiet for almost a month. Despite Jane’s best efforts to build a rift in time and space (“it’s supposed to be a bridge!” "then why did it eat my favourite coffee mug?"), Darcy gets a lot of crochet done.

She can’t bear to work on it for long but somehow the sweater is almost finished when JARVIS informs her that the Avengers are on their way back. She is adding ribbing to the neckline when he walks in.

She knows his tread, hears him come to a stop as he rounds the corner towards her. Eyes glued to her work, she hears him come closer, until, _“what are you knitting?_ ”

She does look up then, and finds herself smiling, even as she rolls her eyes. _“It’s crochet, not knitting. Does no one know the difference?_ ”

“Obviously not,” he replies, smiling uncertainly. “But if I take you out for dinner, would you explain it to me?”

Instead of answering, she snips a thread and pulls it through. “I made you a sweater,” she announces, holding it out to him.

He takes it carefully. “Won’t it unravel, with this loose thread here?”

Darcy shrugs. “I fixed it so it won’t. You’re stuck with it now.”

“I’ll wear it to dinner, then.”

“I’m flattered, but also, if you can wear a sweater like this to a dinner date, loose thread and all, you’re at the wrong restaurant.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Hell, yeah.”

He does wear the sweater to dinner, and even Darcy has to admit he looks _hot_. Of course, she’s a little biased.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, just imagine a single colour version of the below:
> 
>  


	23. My Name is James (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Among Darcy Lewis’s flaws are impulsiveness, curiosity, a tendency to run her mouth, and a terrible disregard for her own personal safety.
> 
> It’s mostly the curiosity which started this all off, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from a prompt from [fringeperson](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5289413/comments/46893920), and is based on the song "My Name is James" from the movie James and the Giant Peach. It was going to be fluff, but the plot kinda got away from me. This happens quite a bit to me, tbh.

If Darcy Lewis has a fatal flaw, it’s curiosity, impulsiveness and curiosity. Two fatal flaws: impulsiveness, curiosity, and a tendency to run her mouth.

Among Darcy Lewis’s flaws are impulsiveness, curiosity, a tendency to run her mouth, and a terrible disregard for her own personal safety. Also an unexplainable love of old British sketch comedy shows.

It’s mostly the curiosity which started this all off, though.

She’s at some suburban gas station, on her way back from a week with the parents, when she hears shouting. One hand on her taser, she goes to investigate.

Turning into an alley, she comes upon three men menacing a homeless-looking guy.

“Piece of trash like you, that’s why this country’s going to the dogs,” says the largest man, seemingly their leader. “Reckon the government should just round you all up, put you to work.”

“It’s not like anyone would ever miss you,” adds another.

“But you messed up my suit,” the first man says, “and need to learn some respect for your betters.”

He takes one threatening step towards the homeless guy, who tenses, anticipating the blow to come.

“Hey!” yells Darcy, “what do you think you’re doing?”

All four men turn to stare at her. “Now, little lady,” begins their leader, “just you move along here. Nothing to worry your pretty head about.”

Darcy tases him.

She smiles sweetly as he falls to the ground twitching. “Sorry!” she says. “Knee-jerk reaction to sexist jerks.”

His friends yell in surprise and one starts towards her, clearly with vengeance on his mind. She tases him too, silently thanking Tony for the upgraded equipment.

The last man still standing looks between her and his potential victim, and suddenly realises he’s outnumbered. He bolts for the mouth of the alley, yelling “I’m calling the police!” over his shoulder.

Darcy turns to the homeless guy. Wide eyes dart to the taser she’s still holding and Darcy sees the gleam of a knife in his hand as he backs away.

Carefully, slowly, she puts her taser back into her pocket. “ _Hey, it’s okay. What’s your name?_ ”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. She’s about to ask again when he replies “ _I don’t know.”_ His voice is uncertain, rusty, as if he hasn’t used it in a long time.

Darcy blinks. “Are you serious?”

He nods.

“Wow. That’s not good. What happened?”

He flinches, and she immediately regrets her words. It’s obviously a sore spot. “Sorry. Me and my big mouth. Let me buy you lunch, make it up to you. I’m Darcy, by the way. Shall we get out of here before the police come?”

He nods, straightens, and the knife disappears. He steps over his would-be attackers, motions for her to precede him out of the alley. She’s about to make a crack about old-fashioned manners when she notices his eyes never leaving the pocket where she replaced the taser.

“Please don’t stab me in the back,” she says. She’s not too worried, though. If he wanted to kill her, she’d probably be dead already. From the way he was standing, he’s had training of some sort, even if he doesn’t remember it. Ex-military? Maybe JARVIS could do a search.

He doesn’t reply to her quip, follows her in silence from the gloom of the alley. Only when she heads towards her car does he speak, hesitantly, quietly. “I know your words.”

Darcy stops so suddenly, he steps into her, sending her tumbling towards the ground, except his arms also catch her, steadying her on her feet. She turns to meet confused blue eyes. “Don’t you know mine?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No, I mean, yeah, I do know them, I think.” She rolls up her sleeve to bare her forearm. “Is this your writing?”

He takes her arm, runs one finger along her words. “I think so?” He rolls up his right sleeve, and only then does Darcy notice that his left seems to be made of metal. Somewhere in the back of her mind, alarm bells ring, but her attention is caught by the looping script heading up a very nicely muscled arm.

During elementary school, she and her friends would write on each other with markers, try and convince their teachers they were soulmates and therefore shouldn’t be separated. This was undeniably different. She could tell no amount of soap and scrubbing would remove her words from his arm, though from the scars, it seems someone had tried.

Firmly burying the stab of hurt, she turns a tentative smile on her soulmate. “Ok, now I’m definitely buying you lunch.”

* * *

She orders two house specials from the café in a nearby mall, and he falls upon the food as if he’s starving. Darcy herself picks at her meal, the unreality of the last hour making itself felt all of a sudden. _Did that all really happen?_

Surreptitiously, she checks her taser. Two charges down, four to go. Like one of those old six-shooters, Tony had told her. She becomes aware the man across the table has stopped eating, is watching her warily. Slowly, she puts her hands back on the table, palms open and empty, and breathes a sigh of relief as he starts eating again.

“So…” she casts her mind around, trying to make the moment less awkward. This was totally not how she imagined this meeting going. “Do you remember where you are from?”

His eyes go distant. “Far away. Very far away. I dream of it sometimes. A big city, I think.”

Darcy feels her eyebrows raise. “Your accent: it sounds like you’re from New York.”

He pauses, considers this. Finally: “is that a good thing?”

A grin breaks over her face. “It’s a great thing! I live in New York, you can come with me, and maybe we can find someone who knows you.” It’s a long shot, but the Avengers have the most followed Twitter account in America. Surely someone would know _something_.

They finish eating in silence and their waitress comes over to see if they want dessert or coffee. Normally, Darcy would jump at either, but her soulmate doesn’t seem so keen, so instead she requests their bill.

As the waitress brings the change, she tells them in a whisper. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Donny Stevens has just been telling the police that he got jumped by a hobo like the one you’ve got here.”

Darcy cocks her head. “So why warn us?”

“Donny and his friends like to beat up the less fortunate, serves them right they picked on someone who could fight back. Besides, you tipped well and that skinflint never gives more than a dollar. Thought you should know they’re in the carpark, checking everyone that goes in or out.”

She surveys the man in front of her thoughtfully. His hair is almost to his shoulders and he has what look like several weeks of scruff. “Is there a barber nearly?”

* * *

Half an hour later, newly shaved and trimmed, and clad in a new long sleeved shirt and sweater, Darcy and her soulmate walk out of the mall. Bored police don’t even give them a second glance.

As they reach her car, the third man from the alley yells “That’s her!”

Darcy whips around. A cop turns to face the man who must be Donny. “You said it was a man?”

“There was a girl too, and she’s over there, he must be with her!”

Darcy jumps into the driver’s seat. Her soulmate is already in the passenger side. She thinks about it, gives in to her worse judgement to actually drive past Donny, waggling her fingers in a mocking farewell before hitting the gas and leaving him in a cloud of dust.

“That was reckless,” he reprimands her, once they're well away. The cops didn't even try and give chase.

“But fun!” she exclaims.

He sighs. “Do you have any sense of self preserv-“ he stops suddenly.

Worried, Darcy glances over. “Are you ok?”

He shakes his head, not in negation but as if to clear it. “Sorry, went inside my own head. But…” he hesitates, then continues, “I think I remember my name.”

Darcy feels her eyebrows meet her hairline. “And?”

He looks a _lot_ better since their visit to the barber, and naggingly familiar. When he smiles, though, he’s breathtaking. “My name is James.”


	24. Windmills of Your Mind (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of yesterday's My Name is James

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, apologies for the delay in posting. I have SO much respect for everyone who can write and hold down a full time job, because it just isn't happening for me. Hopefully I'll have more time to write when I go back to university (hah!)
> 
> This is a continuation of last chapter, also based on a song prompt from [fringeperson](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5289413/comments/46893920), and is based on the song Windmills of Your Mind (no particular artist in mind). And, uh, like its predecessor, it kinda got away from me. Whoops. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, and I'll try to get other songs written soon! I have SO MANY ideas to write, now all I need is the time to do so.

"My name is James."

"That's great! What helped you remember?"

He pauses. "I... Had a friend. No sense of self preservation. Just remembered him talking to me."

"Well, maybe you'll remember more soon."

"I'd rather hear about you."

Darcy spend the next few hours trying James about her life: her sisters, growing up in a trailer park, her scholarship to Culver, meeting Jane, that whole New Mexico incident. She glosses over the whole 'Norse god' part, painting it as a family dispute (because really, that's what it was, right?) and is just explaining her new job in New York with Jane when his stomach gives a gurgle and hers rumbles in reply.

It's late, and they're both starving, so they take the next exit and find an old diner.

Over dinner, in halting sentences, James explains his past, what little of it he can. How he's been fighting for as long as he can remember. How he doesn't want to fight anymore.

Darcy's pretty sure he has some serious PTSD, along with (or perhaps due to) a head injury, which would explain the amnesia. When she makes this observation out loud, James is confused, and then worried. She assures him that she knows lots of people with PTSD, mentally counting them off in her head: Clint, after Loki screwed with his head; Steve, thanks to the war; Bruce and his battles with the other guy; Tony, after, well, everything. Natasha might not have PTSD, but then again, she might. She's very hard to read. About the only one of the Avengers on a mental even keel is Thor, and he's had thousands of years to get there.

They're only a few hours out from Manhattan and she was totally planning on arriving tonight, but a wave of tiredness hits halfway through dessert. It's been a long day and it's all she can do to put down her fork and get directions to a nearby motel; luckily, it's close enough to walk.

They get a room and only when they enter does she realise that there's only one bed. Too tired to care, she strips off shoes, jeans, and jacket and collapses into bed. Struggling upwards to put her glasses on the bedside table, she sees James fold himself onto the tiny couch.

"What are you doing?" She calls. "That's not big enough for you. Just come and sleep on the bed, soldier."

Already slipping into sleep, she doesn't see him straighten at her words, doesn't hear him cross to the other side of the bed, doesn't feel the mattress dip beneath him. All the same, she falls asleep with a smile on her face.

* * *

James doesn’t say anything the next morning, which is good, because Darcy is not a morning person. Bad enough that he’s already up, doing some sort of exercise-y stretching stuff. If he actually wanted to make conversation before her first coffee, she might have to use her taser.

Infuriatingly, the motel doesn't provide coffee, so it's a grumpy Darcy who hands back the keys and wanders back to the diner.

It might not be Stark-level coffee, but Darcy doesn't care, making a noise that would be embarrassing if she was more awake as the waitress fills her mug.

"You like coffee?" James asks from the bar stool beside her.

The caffeine is kicking in, so instead of killing him, she merely replies "how'd you guess?"

"It seemed a reasonable conclusion, based on the circumstances."

It takes her a moment to realise he's teasing her.

“New soulmates?” asks the waitress as she swings by to refill Darcy’s mug.

“How can you tell?” James asks.

“Oh, we see you more often than you’d think. You have this glow about you, this dazed incredulity that someone like _you_ got stuck with _me_. One for you, hon?” She holds out the coffee jug to James in invitation.

“Uh…”

The waitress’s brow creases in confusion, waiting for an answer.

“Sure,” Darcy jumps in, breaking the silence. “Just try it,” she encourages him as the waitress bustles away.

James takes a cautious sip from the mug now in front of him, grimaces. “I don’t like it.”

Darcy would be more concerned about this heresy if he wasn’t already reaching for the sugar. Instead, she watches as he dumps three packets in his coffee and stirs.

“So? What do you think?”

He takes another sip. “Much better.”

Darcy beams, and takes another drink.

* * *

With the caffeine, James gets downright chatty. They talk over their next few refills, right out to car and all through the drive to Avengers Tower. If asked later, Darcy wouldn’t be able to say what they talked about, but she’s never felt better.

They pull into her parking spot beneath the Tower and sit there talking some more. James is telling a story from his childhood: he’s got a few of those, even if he’s a bit hazy on the details. She’s laughing along when she realises she’s heard this story before, just after that debacle in Washington.

_“And Buck just says, "I'm sorry, ma'am, they must've shrunk in the wash"" Steve grins as laughter ripples around the room, but quickly sobers with a sigh._

At the memory, Darcy stops laughing and looks, really looks at her soulmate. He cuts off, mid-sentence, looks at her in concern. “Was it something that I said?”

“Holy _crap_ , you’re Bucky Barnes.”

He stiffens, their easy camaraderie dissolving. “How do you know that name?”

“Dude, you’re famous. Also, I kinda know your friend Steve.”

“How?”

“My scientist boss that I told you about? Yeah, she’s dating Thor, the thunder god who hangs with Steve sometimes. I bake them industrial amounts of brownies.”

The silence as he digests this starts to stretch. Darcy feels the tenuous bond between them start to unravel.

Finally, he speaks. “Well, this is unexpected.”

“You’re not mad?”

He barks a laugh, so different to the easy chuckle from before. “Doll, if you know Steve, then you know what I’ve done. That you’re willing to sit in the same car as me is more than I deserve.”

Darcy’s indignant. “What do you mean by that? You’re my soulmate. Yeah, yeah, you’ve killed people. So have most of the people I hang out with on a daily basis. Clint has, and Nat, though they don’t like to talk about it. Tony sure has, and so has Bruce, poor guy. And you can’t tell me Steve hasn’t! You were in a war! You didn’t actually want to do those things, did you?” At his silence, she plows onwards. So if you want me to go, I’ll go, but don’t stay away from me in some misguided attempt to keep me safe.”

James – Bucky – no, James, that’s how she know him- shakes his head in disbelief. “Doll, you really are something else.”

She shrugs. “People do tell me I have a terrible disregard for personal safety. Besides, I can’t wait to see Steve’s face. He’s been moping for _months_ and Amy’s getting worried. That’s his soulmate, by the way. You’ll love her, she’s lovely and she’s not even American, which is kinda hilarious, given who her soulmate is and I should just shut up now, shouldn’t I?”

Darcy’s pretty sure what _that_ look on a guy’s face means, and she’s not proven wrong as James leans forwards and kisses her. Either that, or she kisses him. She’s not really sure, but who really cares anyway?


	25. What I've Been Looking For (part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third and final part of the story that began in My Name is James and continued in Windmills of Your Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments (and the weekend) have revitalised me! Have the third and final part of this story: it's based on What I've Been Looking For from High School Musical

They totally meant to talk to Steve immediately. Darcy even checked with JARVIS that he was at the Tower, and they took the elevator up to the floor his suite is located. As they step out of the elevator, Darcy bumps into a girl with silver hair and two suitcases, who gives her a distracted smile as she gets in.

“Oh, hey Darcy, welcome back!” Standing in the elevator, she holds the door open and raises her voice in a distinctly British accent. “Steve! We cannot miss this flight! We’ve been living together for three months and if my parents don’t meet you soon they are going to disown me!”

Warned by thudding footsteps, James and Darcy flatten themselves against a wall as 180 pounds of panicked supersoldier sprints past them and into the elevator. Too busy helping Amy with the cases, he doesn’t look up as the doors close and the elevator whisks them away.

James looks at Darcy, his mouth hanging open.

Darcy looks back. “So, uh, that was Amy.”

* * *

In lieu of Steve, she introduces James to the other Tower residents, one by one.

Jane is _delighted_ Darcy met her soulmate, and gives James a shovel talk that has him struggling not to laugh at the tiny brunette.

 Thor is likewise jubilant, and makes plans to spar with James. Darcy’s pretty sure that there’s going to be another shovel talk in there somewhere, but James seems confident he can take care of himself.

Pepper is pleased that Darcy’s back, because without her, Tony went on a science bender and passed out for 24 hours straight, missing two board meetings and a fundraiser.

Tony’s more interested in James’ arm than Darcy’s return.

Bruce smiles in greeting, nods politely, and returns to his research.

James flinches when he meets Nat, and she backs away from him so fast, Clint has to catch her before she goes sprawling. It’s two weeks before Darcy sees either of them again.

James starts hanging around with Darcy in the labs, and it turns out he has a knack for fixing Jane’s machines. Dr. Cho starts borrowing him to do maintenance on her instruments because she doesn’t trust Tony or his bots in her lab, and even Tony starts co-opting his help now and then.

* * *

Steve and Amy managed to get a whole month off to visit her family: her parents and paternal grandparents in England, then her entire extended family in India. As a result, by the time they return, James is well-ensconced in the Tower. He’s not the best at cooking, but he’s a dab hand at helping Darcy prep the ingredients. He’s efficiently julienning a large stack of carrots when the elevator _whooshes_ open and an unfamiliar voice floats out.

“Oh, that smells amazing!”

James’ hand tightens on the knife, body tensing to spring at the intruder, but a more familiar voice intrudes.

“When did we start having communal dinners?” Steve asks.

“About 3 hours after you last left the Tower, punk,” he replies casually, grip loosening on the knife.

He turns around at a choking noise from Darcy. She’s standing at the stove slowly turning purple in an effort to not laugh at a slack-jawed Steve. Amy, her hair now pink, is waving a hand in front of his face.

“I think you broke him.”

At this, Darcy breaks down in gales of uncontrolled laughter, joined by Amy. James feels a smile spread across his face.

“Wha- but- you- Buck?”

Steve’s confusion only sends the women into renewed peals of laughter. Darcy’s sitting on the ground, tears streaming down her face, and Amy is holding onto her soulmate just to keep her standing. James quickly crosses the kitchen to turn the stove off and Darcy leans against his leg to muffle her laughter in his trousers.

Steve looks between the two of them. “How do you two even know each other?”

Darcy can’t answer, so James says, “she tased a guy.”

“Isn’t that how most of your stories start?” Amy asks between giggles.

Darcy makes a rude gesture and slowly gets her breathing under control. “It’s a bit of a long story; why don’t we get those carrots on the stove, first?”

James introduces himself to Amy while Darcy gets dinner back to simmering. The petite interior designer had been hired by Tony after Loki’s alien army necessitated a major remodel.

_Steve stepped out of the elevator and headed to his right. The suite Tony had promised was his was standing open, and from the open doorway he could hear yelling that, with a pang, reminded him of Peggy._

_“I don’t care what retro-patriotic scheme Stark came up with, I’m the designer! Get those curtains out of here; they don’t go with the carpet at all!”_

_Steve poked his head in; two burly workers were taking down curtains that were pretty much American flags. They looked hideous, of course, but he had to give Stark points for trying. He grins._ "I think the carpet matches the drapes pretty well!"

 _The irate designer turned on him, her hair a bright red that contrasted nicely with her dark brown skin._ “No, they don- wait, what did you say?”

Amy turns a brilliant smile on Steve. “I have to say, that really wasn’t the context I was expecting to hear my words.”

He smiles back, the joke obviously an old one between them.

Bucky smiles to see his friend so happy, feels Darcy come up beside him and slip an arm around his waist.

“Wait, so you’ve been here they whole time?”

Darcy and James both laugh. “You actually passed us on the way out,” Darcy informs him.

“Uh…”

“Grab some plates, and we’ll tell you all about it over dinner.”

More of the team file in, obviously ready to eat. As they set the table and Darcy dishes up, James looks around. Nat’s still a bit spooked by him and Clint’s in wary solidarity with her, but Thor's booming laugh echoes down the table, past Tony and Bruce discussing some science, to where James sits with his best friend and his girl. He’s no longer alone, and he realises with surprise: for the first time since he can remember, he’s happy.


	26. Auld Lang Syne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy’s not really sure why Tony’s holding a New Year’s Party in February.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got to see the Royal Edinburgh Tattoo this weekend, and was inspired to write this ficlet based on the traditional song Auld Lang Syne. For the confused, it's tradition to hold hands with the people beside you and sing it at midnight on New Year's Eve (and on other momentous occasions).

Darcy’s not really sure why Tony’s holding a New Year’s Party in February. She has a sneaky suspicion that it’s because all of the normal Tower residents were, for reason or another, not able to make his annual bash. Even Pepper had a family emergency that took her out to the Midwest for a few days.

The reasons don’t really matter, though. Any excuse to shimmy into a nice dress and take shameless advantage of Tony’s expensive catering works for her. Throw in the nice eye candy and some top-notch champagne, and Darcy’s happy.

The fake countdown is a bit grating, though. Back with the Lewis clan for Christmas, her actual New Year’s had been kiss-free, and this one is shaping up to be the same.

As the small crowd reaches zero and fireworks zoom overhead, the live band Tony hired start up, and Darcy finds her hand grabbed by the supersoldier she’s been covertly eying all evening. One of the lab assistants is on her other side, so Darcy grabs her with her free hand and starts singing along. Well, humming along. She’s never really learnt the words.

The song draws to a close and Alice drops her hand to retrieve her champagne flute. When her other hand isn’t released, Darcy sneaks a peek at Bucky Barnes and is surprised to see a tear glistening on his cheek. Beyond him, Steve’s eyes are looking rather shiny as well. After a bit of thought, it makes sense. The song’s all about remembering old friends, isn’t it? Those two have a lot of remembering to do.

She tries to disentangle her fingers from his, but his grip is surprisingly strong. He feels the movement, though, and glances her way with a look of slight surprise, as if he’d forgotten he was even holding her hand. In that moment, he looks rather lost and very sad.

Determined to distract him, she says the first thing that comes into her mind. _“What does that song even mean, anyway? Is it Latin, do you think?”_

 _“I think it’s Scottish,”_ he replied. _“That’s what Monty said, anyway.”_

She feels her jaw drop, just slightly, at his words. “So, uh, is it too late for a New Year’s kiss?”

The lost look is completely gone, and in its place, there’s a dawning joy. “Doll, I’d be offended if you didn’t.”


	27. Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polkadot Bikini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The men crash Pepper's bachelorette party and Darcy's wearing inappropriate swimwear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all you lovely comments! We reached 50k views of this series and I am absolutely stoked <3
> 
> This chapter is based on the song Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini which got totally stuck in my head last week.

Jane raises her glass. “To Pepper!” she cries. “Whose imminent wedding has finally given us the excuse to have a girls’ weekend away!”

Darcy raises her glass, as do the other women around her, and downs its contents. Returning it to the table beside her, she picks up a replacement. There’s something to be said for the resorts frequented by the rich and famous, and that something is very often “Cheers!”

Pepper waves the adulation away, her cheeks flushed. “All credit to Sharon, who actually organised this thing.”

“All credit to Tony for paying for it though!” Sharon laughs.

“Don’t tell him that, though. His ego is big enough,” Pepper replies. They all laugh, but Pepper’s eyes are soft and her tone is affectionate.

“You’re really looking forward to this, aren’t you?” Darcy asks. “Being the future Mrs Stark– are you going to be Mrs Stark? Or will you stay Potts?”

Pepper shrugs. “We haven’t really decided. The important thing is that we’re finally making it official.”

There’s a zooming overhead and one of the iron legion lands, a package it its hands.

Sharon glances at it and grins. “Ooh, it’s present time again!”

The android hands the package to Pepper, who waits for it to take off again before removing the paper with much less restraint than she did the eight o’clock one a few margaritas ago. Out fall two small scraps of fabric.

“What is _that_?” exclaims Helen.

Pepper holds them up, forehead creased in mock concentration. “I think it’s a bikini.”

Jane cackles. “He’s hopeful, isn’t he?”

“Is it just me,” Darcy wonders aloud “Or are Tony’s gifts getting smaller and smaller?”

Helen ticks them off on her fingers. “Noon was a beach house. One o’clock was a ball gown. Two o’clock, a Maserati. Three o’clock, a coat. Four, the champagne fountain. Five, the cocktail dress. Six, that handbag. Seven, that gorgeous scarf. Eight, the fire opals. Yeah, they are.” She grins. “I can’t wait to see what you get at eleven!”

Pepper groans loudly, but she’s smiling too. “That man, I swear…”

“We should swim!” suggests Betty, from her lounger. “The hot tub is calling me.”

Everyone murmurs assent, and split up to find their swimming costumes.

“Not going to wear the bikini?” Natasha asks Pepper.

She shakes her head. “I have my things somewhere.”

“Oh no!” Darcy cries, rummaging in her bag. “I didn’t pack them!”

Natasha gives her a sly grin, already shrugging out of her robe to reveal an elegantly strappy one piece. “Well, there’s a spare bikini right here.”

“Nuh-uh. Not going to happen.”

Natasha steps into the hot tub and hums in satisfaction, then glances up at Darcy, eyes dancing with laughter. “Are you sure? It’s really good.”

Darcy holds out as Betty steps out in a dark green one piece and Sharon in a simple black bikini. They both get into the tub with sighs of pleasure. She breaks when Jane comes out in a cute red tankini. “Aren’t you getting in, Darce?” she asks innocently, from her place in the tub.

“Fine,” Darcy huffs, and snatches up the bikini from the lounger where Pepper had left it. “But I want another piña colada!”

* * *

He’s never actually been to a stag party before. Back in Brooklyn, people were getting married, sure, but no one had the rations to hold two parties before the wedding as well as another after. Of course, even if he had, he’s quite sure those parties would be nothing like this, because none of the people were Tony Stark. The man has billions, and Clint seemed to determined to blow them all on this party as they trekked all over New York.

Back at the Tower, Clint convinced Thor to bring some Asgardian liquor, which worked considerably better on supersoldier metabolisms than the regular stuff. As such, Steve and Tony were currently battling it out on Dance Dance Revolution, and both were doing terribly. Bucky himself was nursing a beer, watching a room of male Avengers celebrate one of their own getting married.

The song finished, and Tony stumbled away as Steve raises his arms in triumph. “Suck it, Stark!” he crows.

“Not fair,” Tony grumbles. “Why are we even doing this?”

“Because you’re marrying Pepper tomorrow,” Bruce reminds him.

A grin splits Tony’s face. “Yeah, Pepper! I want to see if she likes her gifts. She made me promise not to piggyback off their camera feed.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to see her before the wedding?” asks Sam.

Tony pouts. “Before midnight doesn’t count, does it?”

Bruce checks his watch. “It’s half past ten, and they’re an hour away even by air.”

“We gotta go now, then!” Tony decides, striding towards his Iron Man exit with a decided lean in his step.

“If I may, sir, perhaps a quinjet would be better,” JARVIS suggests. Silently, Bucky agrees. The Iron Man suit is terrifying at the best of times. With a drunk Tony inside? Nope.

Clint’s their best pilot, but he’s also been doing shots with Thor. Instead, Bucky is volunteered to be sober driver. They all load into the quinjet Tony ‘liberated’ after SHIELD fell, and he flies them to the resort where the hen’s night/weekend is taking place.

They touch down on the helipad and wander through the halls, guided by wide-eyed but presumably discreet staff. Post-landing checks mean Bucky is the last to exit the quinjet, and follow the raucous crowd of Avengers to a courtyard.

“Pepper, my Pepper!” Tony calls, and one of the women in the hot tub stands up.

“What are you doing here?” she demands, hands on hips.

“You’re not wearing the bikini,” Tony notes with disappointment, though his eyes roam her appreciatively anyway.

Pepper laughs and steps out of the tub to kiss him, to the hoots and whistles from both groups. More of the women get out of the water to greet their partners, until just one is left. She’s a pretty brunette, somehow submerged right up to her chin.

“Not getting out, Darcy?” laughs Sharon, as Sam wraps her in a towel.

“You know, I think I’d rather not,” the brunette replies, cheeks flushing. “This was a terrible idea and I blame the rum.”

“That’s a pity,” says Natasha. “Because the pool heater turned off at eleven, and it's almost half past.”

“Hey Pepper, what did you get at eleven?” calls Helen from her place in Steve’s arms.

Pepper pulls herself away from Tony to indicate her lounger. “I don’t know, it’s over there. Tony, what is it?”

Tony whispers in her ear in reply, and she turns bright red.

Back in the pool, Darcy is starting to shiver. It’s a chilly night, and the pool cooled faster with almost nobody in it. Bucky can hear her teeth begin to chatter, and steps forward, offering her his hand.

 _“Are you sure you don’t want to get out now?”_ he asks.

She cocks her head and regards him with contemplation. _“Well, since it’s you, I guess so.”_

In one smooth moment, she stands up, revealing generous curves in a _very_ small bikini. More distracting, though, are the words scrawled across her stomach: the words he just said. She takes his hand and looks up at him, and smiles.


	28. Wannabe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's worse than meeting the in-laws? These days, it's meeting the friends. Of course, it's not all bad. Not when you bring friends of your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO KEEN for Easter break. I might actually get some more writing done! For now, FLUFF! Because that's just how I do.  
> This chapter is based on the immortal classic Wannabe by the Spice Girls, from the album Spice.

In the end, it was just like the movies. He’s headed to the tac floor when from behind him, a sweet female voice calls, _“Hold the elevator!”_

She sweeps into his life with a pile of papers balanced precariously on three ring binders. Good manners and instinct combine, and one of his hands holds the door open as the other steadies her load. _“Careful there- let me give you a hand.”_

She loses her grip on her files at his words, but he catches them with one hand, offers her his other. 

"Steve." 

"Nice to meet you, Steve," she replies, a trifle breathlessly, taking his hand. "I'm Jessica." 

* * *

Bucky stuffs his hands into his pockets and glares at the blonde man beside him, who is practically pacing in front of the door. "Why are you so nervous? She's your soulmate." 

Steve grimaces. "Yes, but I've never met her friends before. What if they don't like me?" 

Sam laughs. "Isn't that why you dragged us up here? As distractions?" 

At Steve's reluctant nod, Bucky sighs. "Just knock already." 

Steve squares his shoulders and knocks. The door springs open, as if someone was standing right behind it. Her face lights up at the sight of Steve.  

"Hi." 

"Hi yourself." 

After a minute or so, a voice wafts out from inside. "Tell me they're not just standing staring at each other." 

This seems to break Jessica and Steve out of their little world, and Jessica looks over at Sam and Bucky with a smile. "Sorry, uh, come in." 

The apartment is one of the standard type offered to Stark employees. It's smaller than the ones the Avengers get, but furnished in warm reds and browns. Together on one of the plush couches sit two women, one brunette and one blonde, watching Jessica with tolerant amusement. The brunette notices Sam and Bucky, not-so-subtly elbows her friend. "Ooh, more eye candy. Dibs on the hot one." 

The blonde laughs. "You're going to have to be more specific. Are we talking Tall, Hot, and Brooding or Hot Will Smith?"  

The last is loud enough for everyone to hear; Sam grins broadly as Jessica buries her head in Steve's chest with a groan. "I knew I totally shouldn't've invited you." 

"But who will keep these fine gentlemen company while you go all twitterpated?" asks the brunette. 

Jessica rolls her eyes. "We're not that bad!" 

"Yes you are," chorus the rest of the room, with the exception of Steve. 

"I'm pretty sure I have cavities after that," the blonde woman on the couch adds with a laugh.  

Jessica pouts, still partway pressed into Steve's chest. "Anyway, these two embarrassments are Darcy," she waves a hand at the brunette, "and Emily. Darcy works in the labs and Emily is in procurement." 

The women on the couch give little waves at the three men and they nod in reply. 

Steve straightens. "These two are Bucky and Sam. Um, they're both Avengers, I guess?" He looks down at Jessica in hesitation and she beams back up at him. 

"And we've lost them again, ladies and gentlemen," announces Emily. "I am so glad SI has a dental plan." 

 _"You can almost see the little birds and woodland creatures, can't you?"_ Darcy muses, casting the last question at Bucky. 

 _"I'm going to assume that's a reference I don't get,"_  he answers honestly.  _"Would you care to explain it over dinner sometime?"_  

Her eyebrows fly up and she gives him a wide smile. "You know what, I'd love to." 

Emily looks between the two of them with dawning horror. "That is totally not what I think it is, is it? Please tell me it isn't." 

Darcy shrugs, her eyes still on Bucky. "Sorry. But, y'know, not sorry. Like you said, dental plan." 

At Emily's groan, Darcy hits her with a cushion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus: "Hot Will Smith, huh? Given what just happened, would you like to go out for a coffee? We could leave these four alone for a bit."


	29. Dizzy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She bursts in, makes everything better, and somehow leaves it tidier than when she came in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May you all have a happy and joyous Easter! I'm especially enjoying the days off. More time to write!  
> This chapter is based on Dizzy, by Tommy Roe. It's not particularly Easter-themed, but it does have cake.

_It was good,_  Bucky muses, _to be part of a team again._ The camaraderie, both during the fighting and now, after it, recalls distant memories of the forests of France. Though if he remembers correctly (and on this point he’s pretty sure he does) they never recovered from a fight in digs as flash as these.

He’s relatively certain that a certain couch is calling his name, tac gear and all, when the lift _dings_ behind him. He doesn’t look until a woman says “Oh good, you’re all back.”

“Hurricane Darcy, as I live and breathe,” laughs Sam, hugging a curvy brunette, who pecks him on the cheek.

Beside Bucky, Steve shoots the woman a smile. Even Banner looks relaxed as she fusses over each of the Avengers in turn. He’s considering the couch again when she looks his way and says, “ _If you want black forest mud cake, you’re going to have to put those weapons away before you sit down.”_

Before he can reply, she turns to look at the other men in the room. “That goes for all of you too.”

Barton opens his mouth, already flexing his arm, and she points a finger at him. “Not one word about your guns, Clint, no matter how impressive they are. Now, shoo!”

There’s a general scramble for the door and when the crowd clears, she’s gone. By the time he’s put away all his guns, the common area is full again, and she’s chatting to Romanoff. As he enters, she looks up long enough to give him an approving smile. “There’s a slice left for you.”

He looks between her and the cake she indicates, sitting on the counter. Sure enough, there’s a single slice left. As he debates which to approach, Barton appears in front of him. “If you don’t want it, I’ll have it. Darcy gets upset when her baking isn’t finished. She keeps threatening to stop baking so really, it’s for the good of the tower if you let me-“

Bucky pushes him out of the way to have his cake. It’s good. Really good. He looks for Darcy, but she’s no longer next to Romanoff. In fact, it doesn’t even look like she’s in the common room.

“She’s gone back to the labs,” Barton tells him, correctly interpreting his confusion. “Don’t bother asking for more cake, though, she only makes enough for one piece each.”

* * *

He tries to talk to her over the next few days, but she’s always surrounded by one or more of the other Avengers. He would be worried that she was already dating one of them, but she treats Wilson and Barton with the same affection that she showers on Thor and Stark.

Every time he turns around he sees more evidence of her presence – cookies on the bench, cushions neatly piled, the fridge restocked with everyone’s favourite drinks. It’s just so damn difficult to actually talk to her.

* * *

Finally, he enlists Dr Foster’s help. She doesn’t know about his words, but he’s turned up at her lab enough that she notices _something’s_ going on. Granted, she’s not the most alert of co-conspirators, but she gets JARVIS to alert him when Darcy is in her office. When he steps in the door, she mumbles something about needing to check on her machine and heads out. Darcy, engrossed in transcribing a pile of notes, acknowledges her departure with an absentminded wave.

Bucky clears his throat, suddenly aware of how very odd this would look. Darcy jumps and looks up at him. “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t notice that you were there. You're Steve's friend Bucky, aren't you? I never really introduced myself, I’m Darcy Lewis, Jane’s lab assistant. She must be in the lab next door. Her oscillator must need recalibrating again. It would work so much better if she replaced the lens casing instead of adding more duct tape.”

He blinks, momentarily stunned into silence by the sheer volume of words she produces. A small part of him is relieved that this isn’t their first meeting. When he’s got his tongue back under control, he says the only thing that he can think of. _“I think you’re my soulmate?”_

Her eyes narrow in speculation. “Show me?”

He rolls up his sleeve, revealing her handwriting looping up his arm. She walks over, stands so closes he can smell her perfume. Darcy runs her finger along her words, making him shiver. “Huh. I guess you are.” Glancing back at her words, then again at him, she purses her lips. “How long ago was this?”

He shrugs uncomfortably. “About a week ago? I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you then. I got distracted by the cake.”

Her lips curve in a smile. “Well, if it was my cake, I guess that’s ok.”

She kisses him then, and his arms are full of an intoxicating woman who tastes like cherries and chocolate. When they break apart, she looks up through long lashes. “You know, I could bake another one. We could keep it just for us.”

Bucky lets her know just how much he enjoys her suggestion.


	30. Paint the Town Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky needs cheering up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am busy. I am so busy. I don't know why I just wrote a fluff chapter based on Paint the Town Green by the Script, from the album No Sound Without Silence. Blame [cutie_bug](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cutie_bug), who suggested it.

Darcy didn’t really mean to eavesdrop. Okay, maybe she did. But curiosity about the newest Tower resident has been killing her. And if Steve minds being overheard, maybe he shouldn’t be having this discussion in the common area.

Bucky (it’s hard to think of someone as lost-looking as ‘the Winter Soldier’) is sitting by the south window, looking out. Steve claps him on the shoulder in greeting as he sits beside him.

“What’s wrong?”

An imperceptible shrug of those broad shoulders, then “we missed St Patrick’s Day”.

“You remember it?”

Bucky’s next words are softer, and Darcy has to strain a little to hear them. Ok, so she’s totally eavesdropping. So sue her.

“I think so. I remember the parade?”

Steve nods. “We used to love it, going out with all the kids in the neighbourhood. The moms did a cookup, had everyone round.”

Bucky laughs, but it’s short and sad. “The men all got drunk and swore in Gaelic at each other.”

“Remember when your Ma caught us with the beer? Boy, did she give us a whooping.”

“She never would’ve noticed if your skinny ass hadn’t choked on the first sip.”

Steve pauses. “They still have the parade, you know? We could’ve gone out and had a drink or two. Found a few dames, given them a whirl.”

“That would’ve been nice,” Bucky replies wistfully. “Maybe if I wasn’t the most hated man in the news and pretty much forbidden from leaving the Tower. No dame would look twice at me with you around.”

Steve’s still finding words to refute this as Bucky stands and leaves.

* * *

Darcy waits until Bucky’s in the lift before plonking herself in the space he vacated next to Steve. “So I couldn’t help but overhear-“

Steve lifts an eyebrow and Darcy flushes, but continues gamely. “That your friend is having a difficult time.”

“You could say that,” Steve replies cautiously.

Darcy takes a deep breath. “What say we make some better memories?”

* * *

“Tony…”

“No.”

“But…”

“It’s my Tower, and I said no.”

“Pepper said we could use her 12%.”

“…Fine.”

* * *

He’s contemplating another lonely evening in when there’s a knocking at his door. Cursing Stark for his lack of peepholes, he opens the door cautiously.

Steve stands outside with a curvy brunette. At his appearance, she smiles brilliantly and Steve gives him an uncertain grin. “So there’s a party tonight, if you’re interested…”

He considers refusing. It would be easy to shut the door in their expectant faces and return to brooding.

The brunette seems to sense his hesitation, because she hipchecks the door open wider and looks him up and down. _”What you’re wearing is fine. Come on!”_

He opens his mouth to protest, to say _something_ , but she grabs his hand – his left hand – like it’s nothing and tows him to the lift. He glares daggers at Steve over her head, but goes with it.

The lift takes them to the common area, but it’s been rearranged to make way for a dance floor. On their arrival, the brunette tugs him over to the bar, where pints and snifters are lined up. She hands him one and takes another for herself. Recognising the scent of whiskey, he recalls the conversation of a few days ago.

The furniture might be as usual, but the lighting is distinctly green, and no small majority of the guests are wearing that very colour.

 _“Is this a St Patrick’s celebration?”_ he asks the brunette, who pumps her fist in victory.

“Sorry, Ems,” she says to the woman who’s come up beside her, “but the first dance is mine.”

Leaving the empty glasses at the bar, she leads him out to the dance floor. It’s some kind of reel, and he doesn’t really know the steps, but she stays in his arms well enough. Once the song is over, though, she passes him over to the woman from before with a wink, and then the next song is starting and she’s dancing with Steve.

Every song brings a new partner, and soon it feels like he’s danced with the entire female population of the Tower. He recognises some from medical and the R&D department, and even a few from housekeeping. None of them shy from him, or hesitate to take his hand, and for the first time in a long time, he realises he’s enjoying himself.

Eventually, he finds himself back at the bar with another glass of whiskey. People are disappearing and the crowd is thinning. With surprise, he realises it’s been a few hours. Before the disappointment has a chance to kick in, Barton deposits his girl in front of him with a flourish.

“Party’s ending, you keen to hit the clubs?” Barton asks.

The brunette shakes her head. “Not tonight, Clint.”

The archer looks between the two of them, shrugs, and leaves, whistling tunelessly.

Sometime during the evening, she acquired a pair of fake glasses with gigantic shamrocks as rims. She should look utterly absurd as she sticks out her hand for him to shake. “Darcy Lewis, at your service.”

Instead, he lifts her hand to his lips. “James Barnes, at yours.”

Blushing, Darcy hops onto the stool next to him and leans back onto the bar. “So, how are you settling in to 2016?”

“After tonight? It’s starting to feel just like home.”


	31. The Avengers who don’t do Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now it's time for Silly Stories with Kiwigirl, the part of the piece where Kiwigirl comes out and writes a silly story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am still busy. The good part is that I do love everything that I'm doing. The bad part is that it doesn't leave me much time for other stuff, like writing. Or sleeping. Oh well.
> 
> This chapter is based on the Pirates Who Don't Do Anything from VeggieTales

The rules of Never Have I Ever are simple. Someone states something that they have never done. If you have done it, you take a drink. It’s a great way of hauling secrets out of the light and having a drunken good time at other people’s expense.

Darcy hates it. Compared to everyone else in the room, her life has been depressingly normal. It seems the game was specifically designed to highlight the gap between her and all the superheroes in the room. Even Jane’s been on a quinjet, for crying out loud. Darcy’s had a drink for “met an Asgardian other than Thor”, but that’s about it. She’s never travelled to another realm, or decapitated a robot, or had to duck Steve’s shield, or gotten married in Budapest (admittedly, only two people drank to that one).

It’s almost a relief when various alarms sound and the Avengers have to scramble. Within minutes, the common area is almost empty. The only people left with Darcy are Helen Cho and Bucky Barnes, each nursing a beer.

“Hey Barnes, why are you still here?” Helen demands.

He shrugs. “They don’t think I’m stable enough to out on missions yet.” It’s the most Darcy’s heard from him all night.

Helen snorts inelegantly. “You’d be one of the most sober, though. I noticed you barely had a single drink.”

“They’ve all got pretty high alcohol tolerances,” Darcy argues.

“That makes it about even, then,” Helen replies. “I didn’t get to drink once. What kind of people do we even live with?”

“I believe they’re called the Avengers,” Bucky offers, and gets an eye roll for his efforts.

“If you think about it,” Darcy muses, “we’re all Avengers too. At least, we’ve got access to the common room, and we’re not one of their significant others like Jane or Pepper.”

“And yet,” Helen says, “the alarm goes off and we’re still here.”

“That’s because we’re the Avengers that don’t actually do anything. We just stay home and lie around.” Darcy sits up. “New game. Never Have I Ever Avengers style, but you drink when you _haven’t_ done something. Shall I start?”

At Helen’s grin, Darcy leans back and says “Never have I ever shot someone.”

Helen takes a drink and replies “Never have I ever been to a SHIELD base.”

Darcy considers then rejects Tromsø, and drinks. “Never have I ever jumped out of a plane.”

“Never have I ever worn a cape.”

Darcy thinks back to grade three, and shakes her head. Helen pouts. “Never have I ever flown without a plane.”

“Never have I ever had a front page in the Times.”

“Never have I ever been taken hostage.”

Helen shrugs and this time it is Darcy’s turn to pout. “Never have I ever been to Xavier Academy.”

“Never have I ever yelled at Reed Richards.”

Helen drinks, but “It was a close thing. Never have I ever run into a burning building.”

“Never have I ever been to the White House.”

"Never have I ever disarmed a bomb."

"Never have I ever had a secret identity."

“Never have I ever-“

Helen is cut off by a deeper voice. “Never have I ever plucked a rooster.”

The shot glass is halfway to Darcy’s mouth when she stops to stare at Bucky. _“_ _What are you talking about? What_ _’_ _s a rooster have to do with being an Avenger?_ _”_

“Hey, that’s right!” cries Helen, who had taken a drink anyway. “We’re supposed to talk about Avenger-y things!”

Darcy frowns at Bucky, who gives her a lopsided smile in return. _“_ _I didn_ _’_ _t think that would actually work._ _”_

It takes a moment for his words to reach Darcy’s rather alcohol-fogged brain. When it does, “You didn’t- no, but- that’s still not how it’s supposed to go!”

His smile widens. “You going to come over here and show me, then?”

Darcy decides to do exactly that.

* * *

Helen looks over at the two brunettes curled together on the couch and sighs. Reaching for her bottle again, she finds it empty. _“_ _Never have I ever kissed an Avenger,_ _”_ she tells the hand offering her a new one.

 _“_ _We could change that now, if you wanted,_ _”_ is the reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who do YOU think Helen's soulmate is? Sound off in the comments :)


	32. Say It Again (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy warms up to Tony's silly inter-office chat as she makes a new friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The results are in! The majority voted for Helen/Sam, with a strong minority for Helen/Rhodey, and one outlier hoping for Natasha. No final announcement will be made unless I get fanart.
> 
> Today's long ficlet is because I need to study so of course I'm writing instead. Whoops.
> 
> This chapter is based on the song Say It Again by Marié Digby, from the album Your Love.

He's getting ready for bed when the panel by his door lights up and his new Starkphone beeps. Wandering over, he presses the "read" button flashing at him. A box on the screen opens to show:

> 32729: Of all the inventions Stark has come up with, this interoffice chat service has to be the worst.

He has no idea who this is, but he's got nothing else to do and he's always got time to complain about Tony Stark.

> 52637: What is so bad about it?
> 
> 32729: It's pretty much facebook messenger, but completely internal "for security" so it doesn't have any names attached
> 
> 32729: For example, I have no idea who you are. I just chucked a number in and hoped it wasn't Stark
> 
> 32729: You're not Stark, are you? Because if you are I was totally joking about the whole worst idea thing and I'm using someone else's number so it's not her fault

He chuckles, decides to respond.

>  52637: I'm not Stark, no. I had no idea that this thing even existed before you messaged me

Before long, his screen lights up again. 

> 32729: Good
> 
> 32729: Not many people do. I think he thought it up at the end of a Science bender some months ago.
> 
> 52637: You work in the lab with him?
> 
> 32729: Yeah you could say that. I'm more with Dr Jane Foster though. She's the astrophysicist

He thinks back to his trips to the lab floor, remembers a tiny brunette.

> 52637: Short, loud, and likes old chanting music?
> 
> 32729: YES!!! Tell me I'm not the only one who finds it weird.
> 
> 52637: It is a little odd
> 
> 32729: I've tried to wean her off the Gregorian chants and onto something more this century, but she says it helps her think
> 
> 32729: Anyway, I work with her
> 
> 52637: What do you do? Are you also a scientist?

There's a pause, long enough for the screen to darken, and he starts to wonder if he said something wrong. Contrary to expectations, he's rather enjoying this anonymous conversation. 

> 32729: This and that. I take notes when she yells, record her observations, transcribe her scribbles into readable digital format, wrangle new tech out of Stark, and ensure she eats and sleeps on a semi-regular basis
> 
> 32729: Oh and I make the coffee too
> 
> 52637: Can't forget the coffee!
> 
> 32729: I swear, these scientists run on coffee. If the machine breaks, yours truly has to make regular runs to the cafe across the road
> 
> 32729: Anyway, the astrophysicist calls. Nice talking to you!
> 
> 52637: Good talking to you too

He stays watching the screen until it darkens, but no further reply comes.

* * *

It's three days later, and he has given up all hope of hearing any more from his mysterious correspondent, when his phone beeps. Sitting on the couch, he pulls it out and sees: 

> 32729: So what do you do? I never actually asked

He pauses, fingers hovering over the screen.  

> 52637: I'm on security
> 
> 32729: REALLY!?
> 
> 32729: Sorry got overexcited but you're my first friend on the security team. Y'all are really hard to win over.
> 
> 32729: Seriously, you can let me in the office sometime. I haven't poisoned the brownies or anything
> 
> 52637: I'll keep that in mind
> 
> 52637: I'm not in the office that often though

He has been in a few times, inspecting the security arrangements. Stark has fitted it out like a mini-bunker, and hired ex-SHIELD agents to staff it. He's not surprised his new friend has run up against their paranoia. 

> 32729: Oh well. Someday you shall eat my baking
> 
> 52637: I'm looking forward to it
> 
> 32729: There was an explosion next door, I better go investigate

A minute passes, then five, then ten. He starts to worry. 

> 52637: Is everything okay?
> 
> 52637: Hello?
> 
> 52637: Are you there?

After an interminable wait, 

> 32729: Sorry! Lab incident. Nothing major
> 
> 52637: What happened?
> 
> 32729: Stark. As usual.
> 
> 32729: At least MY scientist doesn't blow stuff up for fun
> 
> 32729: She just requires regular feeding and occasional enforced nap-times
> 
> 32729: ... I just realized how much like nannying this is
> 
> 52637: You were a nanny?
> 
> 32729: Yup! Spent a year in Britain before college. I was totally Mary Poppins. Which reminds me I should go check on Jane. See you!

Mary Poppins...? He switches over to the internet browser and searches it. A part of him can't believe how easily information is available, but certainly makes his life simpler.

From Mary Poppins he gets sucked into Disney, and then into TV Tropes. He only emerges when a worried Steve calls after he missed dinner.

* * *

From then, his lab-girl messages him almost every day with updates from the lab: doctoring Tony's coffee, checking in on Bruce, that time when Jane fell asleep on her keyboard and ended up with 150 pages of h's. 

> 32729: It was like a very long scream

In return, he tells her about the people watching he does, ostensibly from the security office but often from his rooms. (JARVIS helpfully routes a few feeds up after the actual security guards got antsy about his presence). 

> 52637: He tried to flash her and she whacked him with her handbag and left him curled up on the floor
> 
> 32729: I am very impressed
> 
> 52637: So was I

* * *

He's in the common room with Steve when his phone beeps, but it's an unknown number. 

> 52639: Hey security guy it's me.
> 
> 52639: You would NOT BELIEVE what Stark did today
> 
> 52637: Did he blow up the lab again? That seems to happens often
> 
> 52639: NO. He blew up my phone. Which is why I am messaging you from Jane's
> 
> 52639: I swear, I am switching him to decaf until he gets me a new one

He chuckles, then looks up to see Steve watching. "Who are you messaging?"

He shrugs, feeling suddenly defensive. "No one."

At Steve's raised eyebrow, he caves. "Just someone who works in the labs. We started messaging a few months ago."

"Months? What's their name?"

He shrugs again, unwilling to admit that he doesn't know. They both slide around the edges of any personal information apart from work. He could probably find out from Stark's staff directory, but that feels like an invasion of privacy.

Steve's got that look on his face and he scowls. "Don't worry about it, okay? I just like talking to someone who doesn't treat me like spun glass. She makes me feel, I dunno, normal."

A broad grin spreads over Steve's face. "Oh, a _girl_ is it?"

"It's not like that." Is it?

Steve nods. "Of course. I'll let you talk then." Still grinning, he gathers his plate and saunters off.

"Still afraid to talk to the pretty doctor?" he yells after him.

Steve flips him off, but he's already looking at his phone again.

They don't talk for a while after that: she follows Doctor Foster to a conference and then there's some flare up in Europe that requires special attention. But the next time she messages him, she asks him what he's doing that night. 

> 52637: Sleeping, probably. Just finished a very long shift and I'm exhausted. Why?
> 
> 32729: Oh, no reason
> 
> 32729: Actually, I want to see Zootopia and I was wondering if you wanted to join us
> 
> 32729: But if you need to rest, that's ok
> 
> 52637: Who is us?
> 
> 32729: Well, I asked a whole lot of people but Jane has date night and the others are busy so it might just be me and Clint
> 
> 52637: Barton? The archer?
> 
> 32729: Yeah, he's my bae
> 
> 52637: Bae?
> 
> 32729: Some people use it as a gender neutral term for their boyfriend or girlfriend, say it stands for 'before all else'

He feels his heart sink and is surprised at the disappointment he feels, but his phone beeps again. 

> 32729: But I'm using it in the Danish sense. Anyway, I've got to go pry Jane away from science before we go or Thor's going to have to collect her from the lab

He puzzles over the Danish sense before giving up and entering it into an online translator. He's gotten good at the whole 'just Google it' thing. He's taking a swig of beer just as the translation pops up.

It's a good thing Stark tech is waterproof.

* * *

 

> 32729: You have access to the security network, right? So hypothetically, you could turn off the cameras on a particular floor? Hypothetically of course
> 
> 52637: I could do that. Hypothetically.
> 
> 52637: Why would I be doing that?
> 
> 32729: Because Barton swapped my salt and sugar
> 
> 32729: MY COOKIES WERE RUINED
> 
> 52637: Not the cookies!
> 
> 52637: When do you need them off? Hypothetically
> 
> 32729: Sunday evening? I know he has Avengers poker night then
> 
> 52637: Consider it done
> 
> 32729: You're the best <3

* * *

The next Monday, Barton comes to the training room looking decidedly grumpy. His arm guard has been liberally coated with glitter. Nat snickers and he glares. "The other one has diamantes."

The redhead cackles. 

> 52637: ~~I think I love you~~
> 
> 52637: ~~So glitter, huh?~~
> 
> 52637: How'd it go?
> 
> 32729: Great! Some of my cookie deprived friends helped
> 
> 32729: *Photo sent*
> 
> 32729: Because you can totally fight the bad guys AND look fabulous, right?
> 
> 52637: Tell me more
> 
> 32729: As you can see, we bedazzled all his archer gear
> 
> 32729: And tipped glitter over his spare set
> 
> 52637: How'd you get in? For security reasons
> 
> 32729: I have a spare key card. He guilt trips me into taking his dog for walks when he's on a mission.
> 
> 32729: The dog is now green, by the way. Because reasons
> 
> 32729: I can't wait until he next washes his hair

* * *

Barton comes to dinner with blue hair. Seated next to Natasha, they remind him of those hapless villains from that tv show the lab-girl had suggested one evening. 

> 52637: ~~I think I love you~~
> 
> 52637: Saw Barton today
> 
> 32729: AND???
> 
> 52637: He was with Romanoff.
> 
> 52637: *Photo sent*
> 
> 52637: Prepare for trouble…
> 
> 32729: You are now officially my fave

* * *

He wants to ask her out. He was totally going to ask her out. But hell, he’s been lying about who he is and that’s not something he thinks she will forgive.

He’s watching Sam and Steve spar when his phone beeps and he reaches for it eagerly, heedless of the curious looks being traded across the room, but it’s yet another unknown number: 

> 94369: This is Natasha. Come up to Tony’s lab and bring the others
> 
> 94369: You do not want to miss this
> 
> 52637: How did you get this number?
> 
> 94369: Please do not insult me like this
> 
> 94369: I have seen you using your phone
> 
> 94369: Now come upstairs

He gathers Sam and Steve and heads upstairs. The other Avengers are gathered in Stark’s lab, watching the iron legion… dancing? They seem to be doing some routine to a bass-heavy pop song, and the one in the front is wearing a blonde wig.

A furious Stark is tapping away at one of his screens, but the robots seem to take no notice. 

Sam bursts into laughter at the sight, and Stark glares at them. “Damn Lewis has locked herself in Foster’s lab with the master remote.”

“Lewis?” he asks.

“Darcy Lewis, Foster’s assistant,” scowls Tony. “She’s mad because I banned her music from the labs.”

That sounded… familiar. “Classic Disney music?”

Stark waves a dismissive hand and goes back to his screen. “Some crap like that.”

“I would say that this is worse,” smirks Natasha.

Barton, his hair now faded to grey, whacks her on the arm. “Don’t diss the Disney Channel!”

She stares down at him, one brow arched, and he flushes.  “What? Lila loves it.”

The music winds down with a flourish, and the iron legion sag… and perk right back up as the very same song restarts.

“I can’t work like this!” Stark wails. “She’s even subverted my suits!”

It’s true: some of the backup dancers are red and gold.

“Have you tried asking her to stop?” he suggests cautiously.

Stark gestures at the room next door. “You are welcome to try.”

Down the corridor and through a window in the door, he can see two short brunettes watching a holo-screen of the action in Stark’s lab. One he recognizes as Dr. Foster; the other is carefully decorating Dum-E with stickers. For its ‘head’, he can see her deliberating between a kitten and a tiara. 

> 52637: Both, both is good.

She pauses in her contemplation and twists to pulls out her phone with a smile.  She reads it. Her forehead creases in confusion and she reads it again, looks at the sheet of stickers in her hand, and back at her phone.  

Finally, finally, she looks up at the door. At him. He holds up his phone with a smile. He can see her eyebrows meet her forehead.

He tries the door: it's locked, so he presses the intercom button and blurts the first thing to come to mind.

“ _I think I love you_."

She marches over and yanks the door open. “ _Say that again_.”

“I think I love you?”

Neither of them notice Stark push past or the sudden cessation of the music. Then again, they are a little preoccupied.


	33. Lie a Little Better (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of Say It Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for the lovely response to the last chapter. This is a continuation, and I hope you enjoy it. It is based on the song Lie a Little Better by Lucy Hale (yes, that Lucy Hale) from the album Road Between.

Darcy stiffens and steps back from him, eyes narrowed in accusation. "Wait a minute. You told me you were in security!"

"Well," he shifts uncomfortably. "I kinda am?"

She shakes her head. "Nuh-uh. You let me think that you were one of the guys on the ground. No wonder they still don't trust me!"

Abruptly, she notices they have an audience and snaps her mouth shut.

"Doll, just let me explain..."

"Just... Just give me some time," she begs, and pushes past the watching Avengers.

He makes to go after her, but a frowning Barton steps in his way, arms crossed over his chest. "She wants to go, let her go, Barnes. How do you even know her?"

"Well..."

Barton's frown deepens until Romanoff breaks in. "They've been messaging. Let him go, Clint."

Barton reluctantly moves back from the doorway, but by the time he reaches the corridor, she's already gone.

* * *

> 52637: I’m sorry

Darcy stares at her phone, and tosses it back onto the benchtop with a sigh. The words haven't changed since she first looked at them.

"Are you going to reply?" demands Jane.

Darcy shakes her head. "He lied to me, Janey."

"An hour ago, you were practically mauling the man."

"Can we not talk about this? Please?"

"Fine. But for the record, I think you should give the guy a break. He's not Ian, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

* * *

The next morning, he shows up at her desk with a handful of violets. Vaguely, she remembers mentioning them as her favourites, back when she'd started hinting in earnest. Back when she thought her security guy was some normal guy with a criminally underdeveloped knowledge of pop culture.

He's sitting on her chair, so she perches herself on a nearby stool, doesn’t meet his eyes.

"I told you about Ian, right? The intern in London?"

"Yes?" He doesn't understand where she's going with this. "He didn't come to New York, did he?"

"No. He was going to, after he submitted his final thesis."

"What happened?"

"Well, this was just about when that whole SHIELD mess blew up in DC."

"He was HYDRA?" He guesses.

Darcy sits back, eyes wide. " _What_? No! Why would you even think that? He was an intern! But in all the mess, we did a full audit and I happened to get a look at his thesis. I recognised some of it. Recognised most of it, really. He'd taken chunks of my research and inserted some of the personal stories I'd told him. All that time we spent together, and I was nothing more than a source to him! And when I submitted my thesis, I would've been the one caught for plagiarism!"

"I'm sorry to hear that." The words seem a bit inadequate.

"So now you know," Darcy stands, busies herself with straightening Jane's desk. She knocks over two empty coffee cups and a microscope before giving up. "Ian lied to me and you lied to me and I know they're not the same but I'm going to need some time, okay?"

"Anything you need," he assures her, and leaves the flowers on her desk.

* * *

"Have you talked to him yet?"

"Nope."

"Darce, what is your problem? You were half in love with him before you even knew what he looked like!"

"I was not!"

"Oh, so that dopey look on your face whenever your phone went off was because you really like that ringtone."

"Hey, at least I know how to change it."

"Like you're changing the subject?"

"Why do you even care?"

"Because I'm your friend. I want you to be happy."

"I'm fine. Really."

"Who are you trying to convince? You know what? Forget it."

"Thank you."

Facing the whiteboard, Darcy doesn't see the calculating look on Jane's face.

* * *

"Darcy, can I have the lens? Darcy? What's- oh." There's a smug, knowing look on Jane's face, but Darcy's attention is focussed... elsewhere.

"Did you tell him to do that?"

"What, to get his arm checked out by Tony?"

"In Bruce's lab just across the corridor, without his shirt off?" Not that Darcy's complaining.

"It is a nice view, isn't it?"

"Jaaane."

"Daaarcy. Just go talk to him, before you drop my favourite spectrometer again."

"That was one time."

"No, that was four times. Coincidentally, each time when Bucky Barnes walked past. You have a problem."

"I'm _fine_ ," Darcy huffs.

"That is a lie and so you are being a hypocrite. As your boss, and your friend, I am ordering you to go talk to him."

"No, he's on his phone. I can't interrupt." There's a pang in her chest at the admission. The chat system has suddenly become a lot more popular and Tony is insufferable. Mostly, though, it's Clint taking advantage of the anonymity to make prank calls.

* * *

He misses her, misses hearing the little details of her day that brightened his. She asked for time and he's given it, against her friend's recommendation. Dr Foster was proving an excellent source of information but she doesn't understand why he didn’t just wander in and sweep Darcy off her feet. Some days, he wonders the same thing. He has found excuse after excuse to visit the lab floor just to see her.

Fifteen revisions later, and it's ready to go, which is good, because Tony finished with his arm five minutes ago. His finger hovers over the _send_ button for a long moment. Feeling someone watching, he glances up to see her looking at him through the window. Catching his gaze, she blushes and turns away hurriedly, nearly knocking Dr Foster over. Gathering his courage, he presses _send_.

* * *

Jane waves off her apologies and shoves Darcy's phone into her hands. "Go and get coffee, Darcy. I think we need the pick-me-up."

She stares at her phone for a moment, then opens a draft and hits _send_. Grabbing her coat, she stuffs the phone in her pocket. She's not going to check it obsessively for answer, she's not, she's- the phone buzzes and she snatches it up. 

> 52637: I'm sorry I lied about who I was. I liked that you treated me like I was normal and I was scared that would change if I told you the truth. Can we start over?

* * *

He hasn't even put his phone down when it buzzes. It better not be Barton. 

> 32729: I miss you and I miss talking with you. I overreacted when you had a perfectly valid reason to not talk to a stranger over chat. Can we try again? because I think I'm in love with you too.

Grabbing the t-shirt on the counter, he heads for the door. It opens just across from Foster's lab and Darcy stands in the open doorway, already wearing a coat and holding her phone.

"Are you going out?"

"Yeah, Jane wants me to get some muscles- coffee! She wants coffee!"

He finds himself grinning. "You okay there, lab girl?"

Face flaming, she forces her gaze upwards. "I'm fine, security guy. Just fine."

"In that case, may I take you for coffee? Or muscles, your choice."

"Coffee. We can have coffee. But you're going to have to put a shirt on, because Gerry just walked into a door down there."

He shrugs into his T-shirt and offers her his arm. With a smile, she takes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  25468: Thanks for signing up to bird facts! You will now receive fun daily facts about birds!  
> 25468: Did you know that kiwi are the only bird to have nostrils at the end of their very long bill? Their nostrils are used to probe in the ground, sniffing out invertebrates to eat, along with some fallen fruit.  
> 32729: Clint. STOP.


	34. Girl Next Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The supersoldier who moved next door to the lab assistant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alert: I have seen Civil War and it was fantastic. It was certainly less angsty then anticipated and I can certainly use a lot of it. Small deets will be dripping into my stories from now on, but I'll tag any actual spoilers. The one non-spoilery fact that I'd call relevant is that the Avengers mostly seem to live out of the new base, not Tony's Tower, so my fics may take place there now. Having said that, this one does not. For reasons. 
> 
> It is based on the song Girl Next Door by Massad and a prompt from [Mandraiv](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandraiv/pseuds/Mandraiv) who wanted super generic soulmarks. I hope you like it!

"We've wrangled a place for you from Tony," Steve tells Bucky as they enter the lift. "With all the bad press recently, it’s better for you to keep a low profile, away from the Avengers complex. Don’t worry, it’s only temporary, until we can get some sort of resolution from the UN. Finding you was the only good thing to come out of that SNAFU in Lagos."

The lift opens on a small foyer, a door on either side. One has an umbrella stand and a pair of boots outside the closed door.

"Is there someone else on this floor?" Bucky asks.

Steve nods. "Dr Foster's assistant. We tried to get you your own floor, but Tony never designed this place for long-term residents, so it's pretty full. Don't worry, she's been fully vetted. The residential floors of the Tower are only accessible to residents and their guests."

Bucky eyes the frog umbrella grinning up at him and shrugs. He has more important things to think about. Like sanity, and memories, and his relative lack thereof.

* * *

For the first few days, Bucky doesn't really notice his neighbour.

He is aware of another person living nearby, of course. She doesn't keep regular hours: he hears her coming and going when most normal people are asleep. The stylishly decorated walls are not the most soundproof, so some noises cut right through, but he's gotten pretty good at not reaching for a gun every time the lift chimes. It’s not like he’ll be here for long.

The first time he meets her, he’s returning from the gym. Via the stairs, of course. The lift is a great way to announce your arrival to anyone who may wish you harm.

A woman stands at the door opposite his. She is fumbling in her bag, presumably for her keys, and on her cellphone. “Don’t worry about it, Ems. We’ll just blame it on my new neighbour. He’ll never know-”

Bucky clears his throat.

She stills, mid sentence, and turns. He’s not sure what he expects, but she neither answers nor apologises. Instead, she looks him up and down. Slowly. Her gaze lingers on his chest and arms.

Some long buried part of him has him square his shoulders in response, and her amused smile widens.

“Darcy? Darce, are you okay?” her phone squawks.

“I’m fine, Ems,” Darcy says, fishing a lanyard out of her bag and unlocking her door. She turns from Bucky and continues chatting on her phone, but he doesn’t move until her door shuts between them.

The next morning, Bucky receives a polite letter informing him of the rules and regulations involved with living in Stark Tower. He’s not sure which ones his neighbour broke, but he hopes they were worth it.

* * *

Darcy sees her hot neighbour a few times over the next couple of days, but she never has time to do more than smile and nod in greeting. Jane’s been working feverishly since Thor went away again, and it’s all Darcy can do to pry her away from the lab to eat and sleep.

At least Jane’s research is less likely to blow up than Tony’s. Of course, less is a relative term, not absolute, which is why Darcy is barrelling through the lab floor with the sapphire lens. “Excuse me,” she says, pushing past some interns. “ _Sorry!”_ she yells after collides with someone. “Coming through,” she hollers, and the hallway empties in her path.

The thrumming from Jane’s lab intensifies as she bursts in.  She drops the lens over Jane’s new laser and it dies away. “You should know better than this,” she scolds, and Jane hangs her head in shame.

* * *

Bucky stares after the woman who ran into him. So _this_ is where the girl next door works. Stark’s one condition for housing him on the sly was free access to study his arm, which all things considered, seems a small price to pay, but this is the first time he has actually been to the lab floor. Everyone stopped to stare when he exited the stairwell and only his neighbours’ interruption stopped him from bolting from the attention.

He catches one of the technicians’ gaze, and glares. “Sorry!” the tech squeaks, and hurries away. His glare sweeps the corridor and there is a chorus of apologies as the crowd disperses.

“FRIDAY, where’s Stark’s lab?” he asks.

“To your left, Sergeant Barnes,” the AI advises him, “and down the corridor.”

* * *

Stark’s really not that bad, he reflects, as the billionaire peers at his arm. He has a hefty dose of the Stark arrogance, but none of Howard’s carelessness. He is genuinely curious about Bucky’s arm, and already has three modifications in mind, one of which Bucky might even allow if he’s here for long enough.

The AI chimes above them. “Sir, you have a call from Ms Potts.”

Stark nearly headbutts him in his haste to get upright. “Patch her through to-“ he glances at Bucky, does some quick calculations about line of sight. “To screen C, FRIDAY.”

Virginia Potts’ face appears on a screen across the room. Seeing Stark’s preoccupation, Bucky edges out of the room. “FRIDAY, is there somewhere nearby I can get something to drink?”

“Certainly, Sergeant Barnes. There’s a fully stocked kitchen down the hall. Please note that all alcoholic beverages have been banned from the labs by Miss Lewis.”

Bucky chuckles, wondering what Stark did to merit that. Probably blew something up.

In the kitchen, the woman herself is leaning against the counter, intently studying her tablet. She doesn’t look up as he makes a cup of tea or when he searches for the teaspoons.

* * *

“ _Excuse me_ ,” comes a voice by her elbow, and Darcy absently moves away from the cutlery drawer. From what she can see, this reviewer has fallen into the ad hominem fallacy, attacking Jane’s character not her research. Which is good, of course. Darcy can whip up a counter argument in half an hour and leave Jane to her instruments.

By the time she looks up, whoever said her words is long gone.

* * *

Coming back to his apartment from the gym early one morning, he nearly steps on a plate outside his door. The note on top reads _I hope you’re not allergic to peanuts but I made too many cookies_.

He has a souped-up metabolism and had just been to the gym. It’s only natural that he eats them all in one sitting.

* * *

Darcy’s all but forgotten about her midnight baking spree when the knock comes on her door. Outside stands her neighbour, empty plate in hand.

“Thanks for the cookies,” he says, not meeting her eyes. “They were really good.”

“You’re welcome,” she tells him, taking the plate. It’s been cleaned, she notes.

There’s an awkward pause, before “can I take you out to coffee? Only not outside out, but to the Lucky Stark Café downstairs maybe?”

Darcy smiles. “I’d like that.”

She knows who he is, of course. She was briefed on the basics before he moved in next door, understands the minefield that his past might be. Happily, Darcy Lewis is superb at small talk. She quizzes him on music, on movies, is horrified by the gaps in his knowledge. She covers both sides of a napkin with a to-watch list and has set a date to watch the Princess Bride even before her latte arrives.

When the café closes, they migrate back to the Tower, upstairs to one of the staff lounges where Darcy has stashed more cookies. Slowly, he starts to open up about his own family as she shares about hers. They swap stories of younger siblings: how she gave her brothers haircuts and he used to tie Becky’s shoelaces. She tells him about New Mexico and about London, he tells her about France and the Howling Commandos. By mutual agreement, they steer clear of Washington and the circumstances that brought him to the Tower.

It’s the most he’s talked in as long as he can remember. They take the stairs back to their floor hand in hand.

* * *

They see each other nearly every day, after that. They’ve worked their way through Darcy’s list and about a third of the Disney canon when Steve and Tony come back from some horrific mess in Europe with shadows in their eyes and a fragile truce. They pull Bucky away for a quiet chat and when Darcy sees him next he pulls her close and buries his face in her hair.

He stays the night, that night, and the next. When he receives the expected eviction notice from Tony, Darcy moves all his things into her apartment and dumps his keycard on Tony’s desk. She calls Pepper, and the keycard arrives back with an apology note. She gets building security to reassign it to her apartment.

He doesn’t want to impose, he tells her, his stay was only ever going to be temporary. She doesn’t dignify that with an answer.

* * *

She’s just finished a long day with Jane and is met by an unusually bashful Bucky at the door. “Will you cut my hair for me?” he asks.

“I’m pretty sure there’s an inhouse hairdresser downstairs,” she informs him.

“I don’t trust anyone else with sharp objects near my head,” he tells her and she nods in understanding. Fetching scissors and a towel, they set up a stool and some newspaper on the kitchen floor. He tenses at the first cut, but Darcy starts talking about the haircuts she has done in the past- from fixing bowl cuts to accidental mullets, the ill-advised rattail and the Mohawk that started a trend at school.

She’s worked her way around the sides and to the back when her steady stream of chatter falters. Soft fingers brush the back of his neck.

“What is it?” he asks, twisting to face her.

“You have writing here,” she tells him, her voice shaking slightly. “I think it’s a soulmark.”

He grabs her hand. “I don’t care,” he insists, but she’s sitting on his lap and twisting the sole of her foot to face him.

“Is this your handwriting?” she demands, and he realises she’s not upset. Not at all.

She pulls him down into a kiss and he starts to think about forever.


	35. Heaven in Our Headlights (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Civil War splits the Avengers, and one lonely lab assistant is caught in the middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honour of Captain America: Civil War (which I have not yet seen so do NOT spoil it for me), this is quite possibly the most canon-compliant ficlet I have ever written (which is not saying a lot). We'll have to wait until after I've seen the movie to see how it all pans out (and if I write a sequel)
> 
> This chapter is based on the song Heaven in Our Headlights by Hedley, from the album Wild Life

The Tower has been a lot quieter since Steve moved out. Weeks of frustrated disappointment (Steve) and snide passive-aggression (Tony) culminated in a heated shouting match that was audible from all over the labs.

That evening, Steve left with a duffel bag and reportedly set up shop in the Avengers base, where Sam's been living since Washington.

Tony seems to have lost interest in tinkering and spends his time in meetings, not in the labs. Natasha stopped coming by the Tower since Bruce disappeared and Clint moved to his farm and family. Thor was called back to deal with some Asgardian matters of state after Sokhovia and hasn't been able to return since.

The family Darcy put together so carefully has splintered: her baking is going stale and no one has time for family dinners. She throws herself into caring for Jane, just like in New Mexico.

Then Thor returns to take Jane to Asgard and suddenly Darcy is left alone. She’d considered asking to go with them, but her place is on Earth and she’s not sure she’d be able to survive without the internet.

It’s actually a few weeks before the letter arrives.

_Dear Ms Lewis,_

_It has come to our attention that your contract with Stark Industries was dependent on that of Jane Foster. As Jane Foster is no longer employed by Stark Industries, your own contract of employment has been terminated, effective immediately._

_As you are currently occupying a suite in Stark Tower, we ask that you vacate these premises within seven (7) days or you will be considered to be trespassing._

_Thank you for your contribution to Stark Industries and we wish you all the best for the future._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Hayley Cameron  
Assistant Human Resource Manager, Stark Industries_

Darcy considers fuming, but she isn’t particularly surprised. She’s used her spare time to do a spring clean and has donated bags of old clothes to Goodwill. The apartment came fully furnished and she’d never had much to begin with, not after fitting into a trailer in New Mexico. By the time her seven days are up, the contents of her life fit into a duffel bag. And a suitcase, but, like, not a _giant_ one. And her handbag is stuffed with some odds and ends when she stops by the lab to say goodbye to Tony, the only Avenger left in the Tower.

Her access card has been officially revoked, but Friday lets her in anyway. Tony’s at a bank of computers, watching intently. There’s some sort of operation going on as multiple men with guns make their way across the screens.

“We’ve got him holed up at the corner of 5th and Lexington,” a voice advises. “The only place he can go is down. Once he exits, he’ll be on foot and we can pick him off there.”

“Is there any way we can do this without killing him?” Tony asks. “Rogers is already mad at me without us killing his bestest buddy.”

“This man is an international criminal, Stark,” the unseen voice tells him. “By the accords, you are required to help us neutralise him by any means necessary, including lethal force.”

Darcy clears her throat softly. Tony jumps and hits a button, muting the operation in progress. “I’ve slept, I swear!”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not here to mother you, Tony, though I can tell you haven’t slept in far too long. That’s no longer my problem. I’m leaving. Got fired, actually. I came to -” she does a double take at one of the screens. “Is that Bucky Barnes?”

Tony scrubs a tired hand over his face. “Pretend you didn’t see that?”

“Nope. Why are you hunting Bucky Barnes?”

“First off, I’m not doing the hunting. Second, that man is no longer Bucky Barnes, he is an assassin who shares his face.”

Darcy studies him. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

Tony shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. I’m no longer in charge. In about an hour you can forget we ever had this conversation, unless he can conjure up a car.”

Darcy shifts her focus to the screens. She’s gotten pretty good at knowing the streets around the Tower: she’s gone on enough coffee runs and late-night takeout trips.

“They’re herding him down by the old factories, right? Why aren’t they in vehicles?”

“It’s meant to be a ghost operation, don’t want any public attention. They’ve even disabled all the cameras in the area.” Tony’s head swivels to regard Darcy. “Lewis, what are you planning?”

Darcy gives him a bright, cheery smile. “Nothing! Plausible deniability, right? Nice working for you, Tony, see you!” Clutching her handbag close, she runs for the lift.

* * *

The handbag in the backseat hits the window as Darcy swerves around another corner. There’s a chorus of honks from her fellow drivers, but technically she wasn’t breaking the law, just bending it a little.

This road is a little clearer, so she floors the accelerator to where her map tells her the tunnel comes out. Tony might not be able to help, but _someone_ routed Friday to her phone to let her know that agents have formed a cordon on foot and are tightening the noose on this exit.

She pulls up outside as a shadowy figure appears in the gloom, left arm gleaming slightly. Darcy leans over and shoves the passenger door open, beckoning urgently.

The figure doesn’t move.

_“Get in now, or I go back to Pennsylvania and leave you to the men with guns who are going to be here any minute!”_

She can see his eyes widen, and then he’s folding himself into her little car and pulling the door closed. He slumps down in the seat as she piles her duvet and pillows onto his lap; soon, he disappears beneath the 151 Original Pokémon (shut _up_ , it was a gift).

Darcy puts the car back into drive and pulls away as men in black converge on the tunnel. The tense silence in the car lasts until her phone chimes one last time.

“Miss Lewis, I have taken the liberty of scrubbing your car from all traffic cameras for the next three days. Sir is unable to talk as he is on a conference call of some urgency, but I believe he would want to wish you good luck. As you are no longer an employee, it would be inappropriate for me to contact you further, so I would like to add mine as well, along with a goodbye. It has been a pleasure working with you.”

“Thanks, 'day,” Darcy says, getting a little misty-eyed as she merges onto the freeway and her phone screen darkens.

She takes a breath to resettle herself, then, “How was that for a rescue, eh?”

 _“It was certainly not what I expected,”_ comes the reply from Rapidash, or thereabouts.

Darcy nearly hits a semi in shock, but recovers enough to turn it into a lane-change manoeuvre, eliciting another round of honks. The duvet shifts as her soulmate straightens.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

She shrugs, flicks her headlights on. “I don’t know. Got any ideas?”

“As long as it’s away from here, I sure as hell don’t care. You do realise this makes you a fugitive, right?”

Darcy grins. “Only if they catch on. Think we can make it to the new Avengers base?”

“Doll, if you and I could get out of that mess, I swear that we could make it anywhere.”

The road ahead is long and lit only by the headlights of a tiny two-door car, but to Darcy, it looks a lot like heaven.


	36. Fighting Chance (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of last week's Heaven in Our Headlights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been sitting on this chapter for like a week, ever since [ladyaya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyaya/pseuds/ladyaya) suggested the song Fighting Chance (which I love, and no lie, has been on repeat for said week) by Hedley, from the album Hello. I figured I just had to post it. It is a continuation from Heaven in Our Headlights and has practically nothing to do with Civil War so is spoiler-free!

“So, Bucky – can I call you Bucky?”

Her soulmate stiffens at the question. “I don’t- He’s not- Bucky Barnes is _dead_.”

Darcy nods. “Oookay, not Bucky then. What do I call you?”

An almost imperceptible shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Well, that does make this a bit difficult. How about Mr Muscles?"

"No."

"Studmuffin?"

"No."

Darcy gives an exaggerated sigh. "Work with me here. It’s hard enough, running away with a guy who doesn’t have a name.” Her voice falters at the end as she realises what she's done.

"You don't have to do this," he tells her seriously. "There's still time for you to turn back. Tell them I captured you, forced you to drive me."

"Yeah, that might work. Right until they get a look at my words. Where are they, by the way?"

"Right across my chest," he admits. "Possessive little thing, aren't you?"

"And don't you forget it. I can't go back." Reaching over, she grabs his hand with her own. "You are mine, and I'm not letting go for anything."

"Not even to change gear?"

She casts him a _look_. "I'll make it work," she tells him tartly. "Dumpling?"

"No."

* * *

They stop at a gas station to top up on snacks; Darcy climbs over the gear stick to avoid letting go of his hand. She does let go to visit the rest room - she's not that clingy - but she grabs his hand with relief when she gets back into the store. Darcy’s never been convinced by reports of soulmate touch-sensitivity, but there’s something incredibly comforting about walking out of the store hand in hand, even if it is metal and not skin under her palm.

Outside stands a man in a suit, flanked by two in tac gear. It says something about Darcy’s sense of comfort that it only takes a slight denting from the sight.

"James Barnes? Come with us please,” the man orders.

“What is this?” asks Darcy suspiciously.

It’s hard to tell with the sunglasses, but the man seems to glance over her, dismiss her as unimportant. “Government business, ma’am. Please step away. This is for your own safety.”

 “I want to see some ID first,” she demands. “Or I’m calling my friend in the CIA.”

“Doll-“ her soulmate says. “Don’t.” He looks resigned and she feels his grip on her hand loosen.

Darcy tightens her grip and shakes her head mulishly. Watching their interplay, the man in front of them makes some sort of signal. There’s a whistling sound and she looks down to see a dart sticking out of her chest. “What the-“

The world goes all sort of tilty and it’s real difficult to stay standing when _up_ is somewhere by your left knee. Her soulmate lets go of her hand and she tries to protest but he’s scooping her into a bridal carry as she hears someone say “come with us or the next one is a bullet,” and other people are talking but she can’t quite make them out.

* * *

She’s not sure how long it takes for the world to make sense again, but Darcy comes to tucked up against her soulmate’s chest. He’s sitting on the floor and she’s curled up in his lap and it feels so _right_ that she decides to ignore whatever happened in that carpark in favour of staying right here.

“I know you’re awake again,” he murmurs into her hair. “How do you feel?”

“Urgh,” Darcy mumbles, and nestles closer.

“Hey.” He gives one of her curls a gentle tug. “Wake up.”

“Do I have to?” she groans, but gathers enough willpower to sit up and look up at him through gritty eyes. “What happened?”

“A tranquiliser dart, I think. You went all floppy so I had to pick you up and now we’re here.”

“Where is here, exactly?” It’s some sort of interrogation room, from what she can see, with nothing but a table and two chairs bolted to the floor in the centre.

“About four hours drive from your car. You’ve been out for about eight hours now.”

“That’s an impressive sense of time,” comments the man who accosted them, as he walks into the room. “I expect it will be very useful.”

“Useful for what, exactly?” Darcy asks acerbically from her position on her soulmate’s lap. His hand tightens on hers in warning, but the man ignores her question to address her soulmate directly.

“The UN is about to declare you a free man, thanks to the tireless efforts of Captain Rogers. With your skillset, you’ll be one of the most sought after operatives in the world.”

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“Perhaps,” the man said, inclining his head. “But we have ways to make you comply.”

Darcy feels her soulmate tense. “Leave her out of this,” he grates.

The man smiles. “Too late. But really, I was talking about this.” He holds up a red folder emblazoned with a black skull and some tentacles. Darcy lands awkwardly on her side as her soulmate lunges at the man, but he points a gun at her and her soulmate stills. "If I read this correctly, it goes some thing like this." The man begins speaking Russian, and if her soulmate was tense before, he's practically rigid now, and Darcy's glad they're not still holding hands because his fists are clenched tight.

"Stop," he groans, shaking his head, but the man ignores him, a triumphant smile on his face, the gun never wavering from her face.

Darcy tases him, and the Russian cuts off mid-phrase. Ignoring the man as he twitches and gurgles, Darcy gets to her feet as her soulmate draws in a shaky breath. "Are you ok?" she asks.

"You couldn't have done that earlier?"

"I didn't know I still had it until I landed on it," Darcy says reasonably. "Who'd a thought they wouldn't even search my pockets?"

"I wouldn't let them," he tells her, and boy, is this a bad time to get the warm fuzzies.

"What do we do now?"

Her soulmate looks grim. "Now, we get out of here." Grabbing the gun from where it dropped from their captor's hand, he goes to the door and looks out as alarms start to blare. "Come on."

Darcy gives the man on the floor a kick in the side on her way out.

* * *

"This is really not the best time to insist on holding hands."

"Oh, shush, sweetie. It’s not like you need to punch anything at the moment. Sweetie?"

"Seriously? We're talking about this now?"

"I have to call you something as we make our daring escape. How about cupcake? Boo bear?"

He groans, but she can see a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he peers around another corner.

"Okay, boo bear it is."

"What? No."

Darcy grins. "You can be Boo for short." She hums, considering, shakes her head. "No, that's the kid from Monsters' Inc. BB. You can be BB."

"I can live with that," he allows.


	37. We Are Unbreakable (part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the continuation and culmination of my little Hedley-inspired trilogy, which I think I might call "wear my heart on my fist".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an exam tomorrow morning and really should be studying not writing, so I'm making zero-promises about update frequency for the next two weeks (who am I kidding, I suck at updating anyway).
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is based on We are Unbreakable by Hedley from the album Storms.

"This is bad."

Darcy looks at the screens, the hordes of soldiers pouring out of corridors and converging on the  security room where they've holed up. On one screen, the man from the interrogation room is stirring and Darcy is glad she swiped the red folder from him. "You think?"

Her soulmate – Bucky – BB - doesn't answer her directly, but one look at his grim face gives her all the answer she needs. "Can you contact the Avengers?"

It must be desperate, because she caught him up on the current schism in the team. Still, if what that man had said was true, then maybe it's not as hopeless as it seems. Except- "I can't get into the communications." She taps a few more times, but they are behind another layer of security and they are running out of time.

"They want me, not you. I can draw them off, enough to clear a path for you. We’ve got the base schematics, it’s not that far. Your phone might get reception once you are outside." He gestures to the handbag they found when they burst in, all her things still inside. There's resignation in his voice, but determination as well.

Darcy shakes her head. "You can't make me go without you."

He recognises the set of her jaw, sighs. "Fine. Can you set up a distraction?"

She turns back to the computers. "Distraction, distraction," she mutters under her breath. _Air conditioning? Lights?_ Spying a red button above her head, Darcy hits it.

"Autodestruct initiated. Base will be destroyed in 10 minutes."

"What?" Darcy yelps. "Why do they have an autodestruct button?" On the screen, the soldiers abruptly halt and turn tail, heading away from them.

"Doesn't matter," her soulmate says, grabbing her hand. "We need to get out of here."

"Oops."

Hand in hand, they sprint through the suddenly empty corridors.

* * *

They turn a corner and burst into a vehicle bay. Most of the spaces are empty, tyre tracks leading out the open doors. To their right, a small jeep sits, hood up, obviously needing repairs. With no other vehicle left, and "Base will be destroyed in 3 minutes," ringing in their ears, they head towards it.

BB closes the hood as she slips into the driver’s seat. The keys sit in the ignition and she turns them, the engine rumbling to life. He gets in and she floors it, accelerating outside into what appears to be a cornfield. Picking one of the sets of tyre tracks to follow, they head away from the base. The exit they left has disappeared from her rearview mirror when the ground shakes and a cloud of dust rises all around. Briefly, she wonders if everyone got out, and then realises she doesn’t really care.

* * *

Soon after, her soulmate curses. “We’re being followed,” he reports, and winds down the window. Taking aim with a gun she never noticed he had, he fires at the SUV that appeared beside them. He must have hit something, because it spins out of control. Darcy can’t really see, as she is too busy trying to ensure they don’t crash into a scarecrow or whatever you find in the middle of cornfields.

BB disables three more vehicles pursuing them before hitting a highway of sorts. Darcy talks him through Google Maps, finds they are in Pennsylvania, headed west. Pulling a u-turn, she has him plot a course to the new Avengers’ base in upstate New York.

She’s never actually been there before: her place was with Jane in the lab. Furthermore, the map is suitably vague about the entrance for the high-security base. As such, they overshoot and end up by Niagara Falls before she will admit they may have passed it.

She’s never really seen the Falls in person before, so they take a quick detour on their way to pick up a new hire car. Sure, they get soaked, but both agree it was totally worth it. The jeep, surprisingly reliable despite first appearances, is abandoned in a parking lot, keys wiped down and back in the ignition.

* * *

A bit more careful on the way back, they are at the gates within an hour of leaving. To her surprise, the gates slide back at their approach and lights flicker on ahead of them up the driveway.

Sam meets them at the main building. Darcy likes Sam, though she doesn’t know him too well. He watches, face unreadable, as they exit the rental car.

“Took you long enough,” he calls. “Cap just about wore a rut in the courtyard ‘til I sent him inside to take it out on a punching bag or seven.”

Darcy screws up her face. “We got held up. Wait – how did you know we were coming?”

Sam’s face shutters, and he glances around. “We got a call,” he says, clearly unwilling to say more.

Darcy thinks over who she’s talked to in the last day. It’s a short list. She nods and changes the subject. “Got room for a couple of weary travellers?”

* * *

They are halfway across the lobby, hand in hand, when her soulmate comes to an abrupt halt. Darcy follows his apprehensive gaze to the stairs ahead where a sweaty Steve has rounded the corner. He looks thinner than when he left the Tower and she wonders if he’s been eating properly.

She gives BB’s hand a little tug. “BB, come on. You’re going to have to do the whole reunion thing sometime.”

“BB?” Sam asks curiously, when he doesn’t move.

Darcy grins. “It’s short for –“

A metal hand – the one not holding hers – clamps over her mouth. “It’s my initials,” BB says. Steve raises an eyebrow at Darcy’s snort, but relaxes slightly where he stands.

“The vehicle outside isn’t yours,” he notes.

Darcy shrugs, peels BB’s hand from her face. “It’s a long story. It would be great if someone could pick mine up, it’s probably still in a parking lot outside Ithaca.”

“Breakdown?”

“Kidnap,” she replies nonchalantly, sweeping up the stairs, soulmate falling into step beside her. “Where’s your kitchen? I’m famished.”

Sam whistles. “Kidnapped? Was it HYDRA?”

“Food first, then debrief,” Darcy orders. “Is Wanda around? She’s the only one of you lot I trust in the kitchen.”

“Man, you really are as fun as Stark said,” Sam says, coming up behind them. “We’re going to have to keep you. Kitchen’s on your left.”

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Bucky advises his friend as they pass, and Steve shuts his mouth with an audible snap.


	38. She's All That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Avengers High School AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's hear it for the end of exams and two weeks of freedom! Hopefully I'll get some more writing done, I'm sorry for the radio silence. Anyone got prompts or requests to kick off my holidays?
> 
> This chapter is based on She's All That by Hollywood Ending, from the EP Always 18

“So who are you asking to prom?”

Sam shrugs, careful not to tip his lunch tray. “Not sure. I was thinking of going stag. What about you?”

Bucky can’t help the glance towards the table at the back of the cafeteria, where a short brunette waits for her friends, nose deep in a textbook. Sam’s eyebrows rise. “Jane Foster? You do know she discovered she’s soulmates with that new kid, right? Our new offensive tackle?”

“Really?” Steve says, coming up on their left. “Good for them.”

“Nah, not her,” Bucky replies, plunking his tray on their usual table, with a nod of greeting to the sole current occupant, who continues to stuff his face with pizza. The rest of the table is clear, as expected. No one at SHIELD High would dare sit at the football team’s table without an invite.

“Then who?” Sam persists, watching Bucky closely. “One of her friends? That new girl, Helen? Darcy Le- It’s Darcy, isn’t it?”

Clint chokes, pepperoni going flying. “Of all the science geeks, you want the only one who isn’t actually good at science? At least she’s got a nice raaaaaargh, stop it Tasha!”

Natasha releases his ear and cuffs him lightly on the back of the head before sliding into the seat next to him. “What poor girl are you objectifying now?”

“Darcy Lewis,” Clint mutters, rubbing his ear.

Natasha hums, lips pursed in thought. “Oh, her. Tried out for the squad in freshman year, I think. Right, Maria?”

The cheer squad captain drops her tray down across from Natasha. “Too small for a base, too top heavy for a flyer. Decent high kick, though.”

Natasha nods. “There you go. Why are we talking about her?”

“No reason,” Bucky says, silencing his teammates with a glare.

Natasha looks between them, gives him a knowing look. “Oh, I see. Boys only, is it?” Very deliberately, she turns away and starts a conversation with Maria on the newest crop of freshmen cheerleaders.

As soon as he’s sure she’s occupied, Sam leans forward. “So are you going to ask her to prom?”

Bucky shrugs uncomfortably. “I don’t know. I’ve never actually talked to her.”

Steve’s eyes light up. “So you could be soulmates?”

“Trust me, not as amazing as it sounds,” Clint grumbles.

Natasha whacks him on the arm, still mid-conversation.

* * *

Darcy yanks the textbook out of Jane’s hands.

“Hey!” her friend protests.

“It’s lunchtime, Janey. Stop studying for a bit and actually eat something.”

Jane pouts, but unwraps her sandwich anyway. “What’s up? How was chemistry?”

Darcy makes a face. “Tony set fire to the curtains again. What is it with boys and fire?”

“Bruce isn’t so bad,” Betty chimes in.

“Not until you get him angry,” Darcy corrects her.

“I think it’s mostly just Tony,” Helen volunteers shyly.

Darcy considers this thoughtfully. “You may be right. Oh, speaking of, here he comes. Detention finished early?” she calls.

Tony sets his tray down with a grin. “They couldn’t prove it was me.”

“You also slipped him a hundred bucks,” Bruce reminds him, sitting down next to Betty.

“Fifty, actually. Mr Selvig’s cheap. Not like Ms May.”

“You bribe the teachers?” Helen asks, shocked.

“Only some of them.”

Darcy rolls her eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Helen. Tony’s the heir to Stark Industries, remember. More money than morals.”

Tony spreads his arms wide. “What can I say? I like to spread dear old dad’s cash around.”

“Great, you can shout us the party bus for prom,” Darcy snipes.

“Okay,” Tony agrees. “How many people are we talking about? You ladies got dates?”

Betty tilts her head at Bruce with a smile, but Darcy and Helen shake their heads.

“I still don’t really know that many people here,” Helen admits.

Jane doesn’t answer, but the starry eyed look she is giving the blond guy approaching their table makes her feelings clear.

“He’s braving the great divide? This soulmate thing must be serious,” Darcy teases, and Jane blushes.

“The great divide?” Helen asks.

“Between geek and jock,” Darcy informs her seriously. “Between brains and brawn. On their side, they have strength, stamina, and _very_ nice arms. On our side, brains, ambition, and the looming shadow of crushing student loans.”

“Unless you happen to be Tony,” Betty adds.

“Unless that.”

“I see what you mean about the arms,” Helen says admiringly, as Thor places his tray next to Jane’s.

“Will you all be at the game this weekend?” Thor asks.

“Of course!” Jane replies. “We all will, right, guys?”

One by one, at her beseeching look, her friends all nod. Even Tony.

Darcy is the last to break: it’s not that she has a problem with football per se, but there’s an awful lot of waiting for not a lot of action. If her friends are there, maybe it won’t be too bad.

“Yeah,” she agrees, finally, giving Thor a smile. “We’ll be there.”

* * *

Apparently Thor managed to talk the entire senior science clique into watching the game versus the West High Hydra. He’s pleasantly surprised at how into the game Darcy seems to be, though she spends the many breaks taking selfies with her friends.

He doesn’t blame her. When the Hydras go on offence, he checks Facebook from the bench. With Thor as a mutual friend, he can see some of her photos. The selfies from today aren’t up yet, but her profile pic has her cosplaying as Rey, with Jane as Padme and Betty as Leia.

Just as the buzzer goes for full time, with the Hydras soundly beaten, the heavens open. Squealing cheerleaders abandon post-match celebrations to dash for cover, dropping their soaked pompoms by the field for a furious Maria to collect. Pepper and Sharon double back to help, no doubt reducing their share of the blame. He has no doubt the rest of the squad are in for it later.

Back-slaps and congratulations done, the Avengers head to the locker rooms. Looking back, he sees Darcy spinning in circles in the middle of the field, arms outstretched. One of her friends yells something at her; she just laughs in response.

“Buck, stop nursing your crush and just ask her,” Steve says, towelling his hair dry.

“10 bucks he’s too chicken,” Clint says, and Bucky stiffens.

“You’re on.”

Straightening his spine, he ventures back into the rain.

* * *

It’s been a long time since Darcy’s had the chance to dance in the rain. Those cheerleaders are probably laughing at her, she knows, but she’s learnt not to care. Time was, she wanted to be one of them, and her rejection from the squad felt like the biggest blow there could ever be. She wasn’t smart enough for the science geeks, didn’t fancy joining the stoners, and while she has perfect pitch, her musical ability is sub zero, so the band kids were right out. She’d sort of stumbled into lab partners with Jane, where her handwriting and report structure had met Jane’s natural aptitude, and a beautiful friendship was born.

Jane would normally be out here too, but the whole soulmate thing means she has to congratulate Thor first. Thoroughly. Darcy doesn’t mind. Thor’s cool and Darcy is a strong independent woman who don’t need no dance partner.

Eyes closed, spinning wildly, she almost whacks him in the nose.

“ _Will you go to prom with me?_ ” he blurts, and she stops spinning and stares at him, stunned. Bucky Barnes, football vice captain and hottest guy in school, just asked her to prom. With her soulmate words, no less, though they’re pretty generic as far as prom invites go.

She narrows her eyes. “ _Is that a serious question or have you got some kind of bet going on?_ ”

It’s his turn to gape, for a moment. “I – no. Well, there is a bet, but I think I’ve won that already.”

“Good. Because if you 10 Things me, you will not be able to buy me off with a guitar.”

He nods. “Fair enough. Is that a yes? Because I think you’re my soulmate.”

Darcy feels a laugh bubble up at his rather dazed tone. “Show me?”

Bucky lifts the hem of his football jersey and Darcy enjoys the six pack thus revealed. Better yet, her handwriting loops across his abs. She can hear catcalls and whoops from the direction of the lockers that die away as she pushes up her sleeve. At his nod, she rolls it back down and loops her arm through his.

“Yeah, that’s a yes. How do you feel about a party bus?”


	39. The Night We Met (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is quite possibly the worst morning after either of them have ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS I just broke 100k views on my fics. I can't believe it! Y'all are the best <3
> 
> Quick note: in this fic, soulmarks appear on corresponding places on the body, so one person has it on their left leg and the other will have it on their right, or one has it on their chest and the other on their back... You may guess where this is going. Angst ahead!
> 
> This chapter is based on the song The Night We Met by Hometown, from the album HomeTown.

Bucky wakes suddenly, aware that he isn’t alone yet feeling more relaxed than he can remember being in years. Instinct holds him in place as memories filter in.

Laughing blue eyes. Soft red lips. Creamy skin.

He can’t be remembering that right, can he? But in the years since breaking free from HYDRA, he’s never remembered wrong, much as he would wish. His memories are missing, not flawed. Once he has recalled something, it sits in his mind with perfect clarity.

Last night was one of Stark’s parties, he remembers. Lots of socialites giggling from a distance and puffed-up politicians angling for a photo before backing away nervously, smiles never quite reaching their eyes. Perhaps he should have left the weapons in his rooms – but the thought of facing a crowd unarmed made his skin crawl.

The sheets shift beside him, and he is reminded that the night took an unexpected turn for the better.

Her name was something odd – _Darcy_ , his mind reminds him – and she’d been friendly, open, and refreshingly honest. More than friendly, it turns out.

Bucky opens his eyes.

Darcy's real, all right, and lying next to him, tangled in the sheets of the ridiculously large bed in his rooms at the Avengers complex. Sunlight filters through the blinds, giving her an almost ethereal glow, and despite the movement he heard before, she's fast asleep. Even as he watches, she shifts again to her side, bringing her arm right up next to her face.

His handwriting spirals around her wrist.

More memories filter back, far less pleasant ones, of training on soulmates and their use in strategic coercion. The best case scenario left both soulmates dead. Worst case?

There were many times he hated his inability to forget, but never so much as now.

Even as the Soldier, he had been grateful that he did not have a soulmate, did not have the weakness he had seen exploited with such devastating efficiency. He's thought himself immune to that particular form of torture. To see those things happen to the woman in from of him? Unthinkable. If this ever got out, she'd become a target.

Reaching out, he shakes her shoulder. She flinches from his touch and blue eyes flutter open, then crease in concern.

"Are you okay?"

"You need to go. This was a mistake."

"What?"

She sits up, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. His eyes are drawn once more to her wrist, and it only strengthens his resolve.

"You need to go," he repeats, ignoring the hurt that spreads across her face. Better that she hurt today, than face the horrors that HYDRA would inflict upon her.

"But you're - "

He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter." Of course it matters. It matters too much.

Loathe to say more, he goes for a shower. When he gets out, she's gone.

* * *

Steve finds him on his third punching bag.

"You know, Tony specifically designed these things to last for a week."

He doesn't dignify that with an answer, simply continues to pummel the bag in front of him. Imagines the many handlers he's had over the years.

"Did something happen between you and Darcy? I saw you two together last night."

The bag goes flying. He turns to hang another but Steve plants himself in front of the spares.

"I'm not moving until you talk to me," Steve says, and he knows the stubborn punk means it.

"Yeah, but it won't happen again," he tells his friend, whose face creases in concern.

"Why not? She's a nice girl."

"It makes her a target," he says, and Steve nods in understanding.

"You know she lives at the complex, right? She's about as safe as it comes."

"Doesn't matter." For a shot at his soulmate, HYDRA would risk anything. Becky's family have already been sent into a Stark-funded version of witness protection; their empty house was invaded not two days after they left.

Steve helps him hang the next punching bag, then sets one up beside his.

They get through five more punching bags before Happy kicks them out of the gym.

* * *

The next time he sees her, a few days later, she's having dinner in the shared dining room. It's more like a restaurant than the mess halls he remembers, but there's always some sort of sustenance available, even if you didn't place a specific order for dinner.

She's seated with some of the lab assistants, picking at her food, and he has to fight the urge to go over to her. Instead, he sits a few tables away, well within earshot but out of her line of sight.

"You coming out with us tonight, Dee?" one of the assistants asks. "You've been kinda down for the last few days."

"Just tired," she says. "Jane got inspired after Stark's party."

There is a chorus of laughs and groans – it seems Dr. Foster's habits are well-known.

"You're so lucky you got to go," another assistant pipes up. "I'd give my left arm for an invite. Practically everyone who is anyone was there." There is a murmur of assent from around the table.

"It wasn't that great," Darcy tells them. "Lots of egos. Gimme a movie night any time."

"Yeah, but your movie nights include _Avengers_ ," one of her friends points out.

"Only some of them," Darcy corrects her. "Not sure I'd want the whole complement."

"I can't believe you got the Black Widow to come," one sighs.

"It was the brownies," Darcy laughs, and Bucky becomes aware how very creepy he is being. Shovelling the rest of his food down, he leaves the dining room – and Darcy – behind him.

* * *

"You want me to what!?"

Bucky stares down at the woman in front of him, her smile bright and determined.

"Come to the movie night. Everyone else has come at least once. Even Bruce did, back at the Tower."

"You actually want me there?"

Her smile falters, then firms, looking decidedly more brittle than before, a far cry from the smile she had bestowed upon him the night they met.

"I don't know what your problem is, but yes. You live here, you get invited. Bring Steve; he hasn't come for months."

He nods. "I'll think about it."

* * *

After some enquiry, he finds one of the meeting rooms has been repurposed into a movie theatre. Couches and recliners line the outside and beanbags and cushions dot the middle. Small bots topped with snacks roam between them.

Darcy greets them with a smile; Steve even gets a hug. "I made cookies, they're on Roll-E and Wheel-E." She gestures to a couple of the bots across the room and Steve's eyes light up.

"Macadamia chocolate chip?" Steve asks hopefully, and Darcy laughs.

"Bet you're glad you came, Cap. Find a seat, we'll get started when Jane turns up."

Bucky notices she doesn't choose her own seat until he's seated. He ignores the stab of rejection as she slumps into a beanbag as far away from him as the room allows. When a brunette he remembers from Stark's party appears, Darcy waves her over with a cry of "Finally!"and starts the movie.

He doesn't actually remember what movie they watched. He spends the entire movie watching Darcy by the flickering light of the screen. Her reactions are fascinating, every little emotion playing out over her face, but when the credits roll, she just looks sad.

* * *

Attached to the dining room is a large kitchen for the catering, and a smaller one that residents are welcome to use. Five movie nights later, Bucky is putting together a sandwich when the oven starts to beep.

Darcy barrels in, phone also beeping, and removes a tin of muffins. Setting them aside to cool, she gets out another tin and turns to the fridge, likely for the bowl of batter he spotted earlier.

Seeing him there, she stops. It's the first time they've been alone together since the night they met. He notices her right wrist is covered in colourful bracelets, effectively hiding her words.

"Hi," he says. "Those look good."

She stares incredulously. "Seriously? It's okay, dude, you don't have to pretend to like me. There's no one around to impress."

"No, I wanted to apologise..."

Darcy shakes her head. "Screw that. I don't need an apology, I want an explanation. And it better be a good one."

"You'd be a target."

She snorts. "I'm _already_ a target. I live with the Avengers, I work with Jane, and believe me, multiple shady organisations are interested in her work, and that's not even counting Thor."

He takes a deep breath. "HYDRA trains its operatives on using soulmates to force obedience. I can't afford that weakness..." He trails off, aware he's said the wrong thing as her eyes go flinty.

"So, what, I'm a liability?"

He opens his mouth to explain, but she's no longer interested in listening. He'd expected tears, recriminations, fear. Anger was good, too, more productive than fear.

He didn't expect her to tase him.

"How's that for weakness?" she hisses in his ear.

When he comes to, there's a new batch of muffins in the oven and Darcy is gone.

* * *

Natasha appears even before she's put the plate of muffins on the table.

"Darcy, you wouldn't happen to know anything about Barnes being stunned in the kitchen, would you? Mmph, these are good."

Darcy shakes her head. "I plead the fifth."

Natasha grins. "I thought so." Gaze dropping, her smile disappears. "Why are you rubbing your wrist? Did he hurt you?"

Darcy snatches her hand back as if burned. "What? No!"

Natasha reaches for another muffin, her sleeve riding up to reveal a messy scrawl running up her forearm. Its appearance indicates how comfortable she is with Darcy; she normally takes care to wear long sleeves, even at the Avengers complex.

"Are soulmates a weakness?" Darcy blurts out, knowing she's said too much even as the words leave her lips.

Natasha's eyes widen, but she doesn't ask the obvious question. Instead, she answers "of course."

She laughs slightly at Darcy’s confusion and continues. "They're a piece of your heart, running around with a mind and will of their own, liable to get into trouble that you can't prevent. How is that not a weakness?"

Darcy blinks in surprise, but Natasha's still not finished, seems to raise her voice to add "A soulmate is also the greatest comfort and joy this world has ever seen fit to give, and anyone who forgets or otherwise rejects that deserves to be shot."

She raises the last of her muffin in a salute, grabs another for the road. "Thanks for the muffins."

Around the corner, a contemplative Bucky stands in silence.

* * *

He doesn’t go to that movie night, and begs off the next, but the next time he compliments Darcy on the ginger slice she left in the Avengers common room, she thanks him with a gracious smile. They’ve even had a few actual conversations. Bucky begins to hope that maybe it's not too late.

They are on a mission in Europe when it happens. Too preoccupied with the mooks in front of him, he doesn’t notice the knife behind until it slides in and he’s losing the strength in his legs and Steve’s there swearing up a blue streak half-carrying, half-dragging him to the quinjet where Vision looks grave and even Hawkeye’s stopped cracking  jokes.

He knows it’s bad when he realises it doesn’t hurt and yet every breath brings up blood.

“Steve,” he croaks, breath rattling in his chest, but Steve’s too busy yelling at Hawkeye to go faster to hear him, and it’s Natasha who comes to his side. “That day,” he says, “in the common room, you knew I was there.”

She gives him a look. “And?”

“Tell her the best thing I ever had was the night we met.”

Natasha nods, once. “I will.”

Satisfied with that, he lets the world go.

* * *

Bucky wakes to the sounds of mechanical humming and quiet beeping, and the knowledge that he isn’t alone. Instinct holds him in place as memories filter in.

Romania. The ambush. Being stabbed.

He forces his eyes open.

Darcy's sitting next to him, curled up in an armchair in an otherwise sterile white room. The overhead lights are dimmed, but he can see her eyes are reddened in the light of her tablet. Even as he watches, she pushes her hair behind her ear, bringing her arm right up next to her face.

His handwriting spirals around a wrist bare of bracelets.

Noticing him watching her, she jumps, turns off her tablet screen.

“You’re awake,” she observes, rather unnecessarily. “Good. I’ll tell Steve.”

Uncurling from the chair, she’s halfway to the door by the time he gets his voice working again.

“Will you come back?”

She pauses by the door, nods.

“Thank you,” he says.

 Darcy smiles, crooked and tired. “I still don’t regret tasing you.”


	40. Yeah Boy (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what happened on The Night We Met

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a companion piece to the previous story, but it's not a direct retelling from Darcy's PoV. It's the night they met. Once again, soulmarks are on corresponding places on the body.
> 
> Thanks to [Raveninflight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Raveninflight/pseuds/Raveninflight), who provided the words! This fic is based on the song Yeah Boy by Kelsea Ballerini, from the album the First Time.

Darcy smoothes down her dress once more and checks her lipstick. Bless Pepper Potts and the clothes fund: the red lace dress she rustled up for Darcy makes her look _great_.

“Darcy?”

“Coming, boss lady,” she calls back. Grabbing her clutch, she joins Jane and Thor in the elevator.

“Lady Darcy, you look most becoming tonight,” Thor booms as the doors close.

“Not looking too bad yourself, big guy,” she replies, smiling up at him. She’s not too keen on Tony’s flashy parties, but at least she has friends to spend them with.

* * *

It started with a drink, but not in the usual way. It was Darcy’s drink, and one of that endless parade of paparazzi jostled her on the way to a shot of Thor. None of it ended on her or her borrowed dress, thank goodness, but her hot pink Cosmo splashed over the ground.

Jane looked over when Darcy pulled a u-turn back to the bar, glanced at the fast-drying puddle. When she did a double-take and studied it intently, Darcy sighed internally. She knew that look. It spelled inspiration – normally of the no-sleep variety.

Jane commandeered the paparazzo’s camera to document the shape of the puddle, then started patting her hair and dress to find a pen. Noticing her distraction, Thor made their excuses and efficiently shepherded Jane back to her lab, promising the paparazzi a replacement camera. For her part, Darcy ejected the memory card and handed the rest back. She didn’t want the lab budget blown on some overblown expense claim. Stark might throw money around; Pepper was more circumspect.

Suddenly friendless and drinkless, Darcy heads back to the bar. Perching on one of the stools, she chats with the bartender, Maya, as she makes her another drink.

“Whoa,” she says after knocking it back – less chance of it being spilt if she’s already drunk it. “What is in that?”

Maya starts listing what sounds like her entire liquor display as Darcy nods knowledgably. “Can I have another?”

“Only if you drink a glass of water in between. I like my job too much to let a guest get wasted.”

“Fair enough,” Darcy agrees. “I might just stay here then. I don’t really know anyone else at this party. Most of my usual crowd don’t get invited to these things.”

“So make some new friends! I might be stuck behind this bar, but you are not. Go and live a little.” Another guest signals for a drink, so Maya leaves Darcy alone with her water.

From the bar, Darcy spots Steve being harassed by paparazzi. She’s about to go over when he extracts himself with a smile and vanishes into the crowd. How a six-foot supersoldier does that is beyond her, but with her height, she’ll never track him down.

Scanning the crowd for someone, anyone else interesting, she spots a vaguely familiar figure by the buffet. He doesn’t look like a politician, and the chattering women are giving him a wide berth, which is surprising because he's hot. Hopping off her bar stool and pushing through the crowd, she’s only a few steps away when she realises it’s Bucky Barnes, the one Avenger who hasn’t come to a movie night yet. Granted, he had only arrived at the Avengers complex a few weeks ago. 

Now, Darcy's still not sure of her place in the new Avengers complex but the movie nights were her idea. It's a point of pride that everyone gets invited at least once. Besides, it gives her an excuse to approach him.

Drawing on her best (read: most cheesy) pick up lines, she breaks through the last of the crowd and catches his eye. His gaze is challenging, almost cocky, but it looks good on him, and she can appreciate how he avoids lingering on the girls for longer than necessary.

 _"Is that a gun in your pocket, or you just happy to see me?_ _”_ she drawls, looking him up and down, when she realises “ _Hey, that's a gun in your pocket!"_

His smile turns surprised and slightly sheepish.  _“Is it that obvious?_ _I’m not too confident in crowds these days.”_

Darcy feels a smile break across her face, offers him her hand. “That’s understandable. And no, it's not that obvious but it was distracting me from the line of your very nice ass. Darcy Lewis, pleased to meetcha.”

He takes it, raises it to his lips instead of shaking it. “Bucky Barnes, and the pleasure is all mine. And the nice ass, apparently."

Darcy tries very hard not to leer. “Oh believe, it it. So Bucky, how did you get roped into this?”

He shrugs. “Stark seemed to imply these parties are a normal part of life as an Avenger.”

Darcy snorts. “He wishes! They’re mostly photo ops and publicity stunts, really. With free alcohol and great catering. The only people who want to be here are the fame-chasers and the bigwigs who need an easy image revamp.”

“What about you then? You a bigwig?"

“Nah, my friend Jane wanted a friend for when Thor does his superhero thing but she got distracted and he went with her and now I’m here all alone.”

She mock-pouts on the last words, and he has to laugh. “As it so happens, I’m here all alone too. Steve - Rogers, you know - seems to have disappeared.”

She gestures in the general direction that she saw Steve go. “I think he went thattaway, if you really want to track him down.”

 “What say we be all alone together instead? You could show me around a bit, tell me who everyone is.”

Darcy loops her arm through his. “I thought that was going to go somewhere else for second, but okay. Maybe later, right? If you want the goss, though, you are talking to the right girl. That’s why my hair’s so big- it’s full of secrets.”

He looks over at her relatively modest updo. “Is that a reference to something?”

“Oh, we have a lot of catching up to do. Now, that’s London Tipton, super-rich and _very_ dumb. Word is, she dated one of the founders of Facebook...”

* * *

When Darcy’s throat gets dry, Bucky leads them to the bar, where a very busy Maya serves up a couple of glasses of Pinot Gris with a congratulatory flourish and a wink for Darcy. The buzz is nothing compared to the drink she had earlier, but Darcy lets it carry her along.

Seeing Tony and Pepper making an exit, she points it out to Bucky. “Looks like they’re getting some alone time in tonight. How about we do the same?”

He doesn’t even look over, is watching her instead, and hot _damn_ that gaze is intense. “Are you propositioning me, Darcy?” he asks, a slow smile spreading across his face.

She straightens, aware of the heat pooling in her belly. "Well, I have been hitting on you all night.”

“I’ve noticed,” he says, voice low, sending shivers across her skin.

“Is that a yes, then?”

“Yes.”


	41. Home (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red Room!Darcy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the gap. August kinda snuck up on me and suddenly it's been nearly a month with nothing posted. To everyone who has read, commented, or kudos'd in the meantime, THANK YOU <3
> 
> Anyway, here's one I've had floating around for a bit. It's based on the song Home by Maccabeats, which is an absolutely gorgeous a capella mashup of several songs like Don't Forget Where You Belong, Back Home, and Already Home. I hope y'all enjoy it!

Following Jane to SI had been a mistake. Her only excuse is that she'd gotten attached to the first real friend she's had in years. She's been ready to run after meeting SHIELD in New Mexico, but as days turned to weeks turned to months and all that arrived was a job offer with Stark, she began to relax. She'd even begin to consider unpacking her bag: the duffel bag with the passports, burner phone, nondescript hoodie and jeans, gun, and enough cash to set up somewhere new. She hadn't, though.  Her latest name change will only ensure her safety for a little while. Someday soon, Darcy Lewis will have to disappear.

Maybe next time, she'll be French. She's always loved Paris.

Still, she hadn't wanted to leave Jane just yet. She'd stayed careful, hiding behind glasses, faking sick when Stark sent the photographers around to avoid a photo on the staff section of the website. All her preparation ruined by a promotional shot from one of Stark’s staff parties. She'd taken it down through what would have appeared to be a juvenile prank hack, but one of her handlers - former handlers - must have seen it, perhaps when gathering intel on Stark.

Not that that’s particularly her problem, at the moment. Her problem resides in the three bodies in Jane’s lab. They sucked at being quiet and none of them had data storage units, so she has to assume they came for her. They must have thought she’d gotten soft.

She hadn’t.

Voices echo from around the corner. If they find her here, they’ll have questions. It’ll draw all the wrong type of attention from the Avengers. There is little chance that the Black Widow living upstairs would recognise her, but Darcy doesn’t want to take that chance.

Darcy darts over to the other door, silently slips out. She’s over in the staff kitchenette three floors down when the alarms start blaring.

Clutching her coffee and faking a yawn, Darcy pokes her head out. “Did Tony blow something up again?” she asks one of the security guys rushing past.

He shakes his head. “No, ma’am, this is something else. Just stay here.”

Rolling her eyes, Darcy pulls out her iPod and sticks in her earbuds, though the music is on low. She curls up on a couch and pretends to read one of the trashy magazines that Leanne leaves lying around. When the all clear is given, she rinses her mug and heads home.

She has to prepare. She might have stopped one attack but she's certain they will try again.

* * *

The Asset reviews the file on his target. She is a former Asset herself, who went off the grid several years ago and has surfaced in the company of Tony Stark. She went through the program several years after Romanova and the analysts could find nothing to indicate the two were in communication, but that must reviewed in light of recent findings.

Expert infiltrator, highly skilled at hand to hand and hacking, above average on the shooting range. Overall, a standard operative. Three teams sent to recapture or neutralise have disappeared, which is to be expected from an Asset.

Security at the Tower has been increased since the first team failed, so he has been ordered to attack her place of residence. She is now considered too dangerous to retrieve.

One shot, problem solved.

* * *

"No, I've got a headache," Darcy lies. "Maybe next weekend?"

"We haven't seen you in ages," Emily complains from the other side of the phone. "Get better soon, ok? Next weekend, I'm holding you to it."

"I'll be there," Darcy promises with conviction she doesn't feel, and ends the call.

This constant vigilance is wearing on her, and ruining her social life. She's made an effort to make new friends only recently and now all her hard work is coming undone. It's probably for the best: friends are distractions at best, collateral damage at worst. At least Jane's safely ensconced at the Tower.

If only she could get one of those apartments in the Tower. Between Stark and Friday, the security there is several lightyears above anywhere else in New York. She wouldn't have to watch her back, sleep with one eye open. Unfortunately, they are reserved for higher priority members of the organisation. Perhaps if she went to the Avengers... no. She's worked too hard to leave her past behind, to build the quiet life she enjoys. Talking to the Avengers, revealing her skill set, will change all of that.

Stuffing her phone back in her jeans, Darcy unlocks her door and steps inside. Some flicker, some instinct, has her hitting the floor as a bullet embeds itself in the door where her head was.

Belly crawling to the bag in her bedroom, she hears the lounge window shatter and the tread of heavy boots on broken glass. Glock in hand, she waits. As the footsteps near, she rolls into the corridor and fires blindly at where she expects his head to be.

She only gets three shots off before the gun is wrenched from her hand. Pulled to her feet, a hand clamps around her throat and squeezes.

" _I won't go back_ ," she gasps, kicking out, and her attacker stumbles back, eyes wide behind his mask. His left arm glints in the light and a part of her is impressed that they sent the Winter Soldier after her.

" _Who told you to say that_?" he asks, and it's her turn to gape, one hand around her poor abused throat.

"No one!"she protests when he moves towards her threateningly. She tugs down her neckline to reveal the words which she is sure are now readable. His gaze locks onto them and for some minutes, their harsh breathing in tandem is the only sound.

"Are you still going to kill me?" she finally asks, her voice a croaky rasp. At his mute head shake, she sighs and lets herself slide down the wall until she is sitting on the ground.

"Come here," she says, patting the ground beside her, and to her surprise, he acquiesces. Darcy allows herself to lean on his shoulder for a bit, but training doesn't let her relax for long. "How long before they send someone else?"

"I don't know," he admits. "I am the final option. I don't fail."

"I've heard that," she says, thinking hard. She has the inkling of an idea that could solve all their problems, if her soulmate can avoid being shot on sight. "How do you feel about the Avengers?"


	42. Heathens (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Red Room!Darcy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The promised part two of Red Room!Darcy.
> 
> This chapter is based on the song Heathens by Twenty One Pilots, as suggested by [Ravenblood](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenblood/pseuds/Ravenblood).

"The Avengers?" the Winter Soldier shakes his head. "The Avengers must be avoided. Contact will seriously jeopardise the mission."  

"And what's the mission?" Darcy asks, throat still raw.  

"Eliminate the former Asset," he says, fists clenching and unclenching.  

"I don't think the mission is valid anymore," she says, deliberately keeping her voice light. "At least, I hope not."  

Slowly, he nods. "What do I do if there's no mission?" 

Darcy sighs. "I guess you find a new one. That's what I did."  

He turns to her, gaze intense behind his mask. "You. You're my mission now."  

Darcy lays a hand on the side of his face. "And you're mine."  

The moment is broken when the Soldier jerks, yanks an earpiece from his ear and crushes it between metal fingers. "We need to leave. Now."  

He stands in one smooth movement and Darcy follows suit. "So, you still against asking the Avengers?"  

He shakes his head. "Former mission parameters are no longer valid. The Avengers are protectors. They will keep you safe."  

"They'll keep you safe too, buddy," Darcy says. "Hopefully."

* * *

Darcy throws some clothes into her duffel bag over some money and her current passport, hides the rest in a secret pocket. The Glock she leaves where the Soldier dropped it. She doesn’t want to give the Avengers a reason to give her bag any more than a cursory examination. 

Before she can second guess herself too much, she calls Jane, gives her a quick rundown of the situation – met her soulmate, fears for her life, can they stay at the Tower? Within five minutes of her hanging up, Pepper Potts calls, invites them to a meeting. She doesn’t even sound surprised, which is probably a testament to the sheer volume of weirdness that surrounds Tony Stark on a regular basis. 

She drives to the Tower as her soulmate keeps a wary eye out from the passenger side. He hasn’t said a word since agreeing to approach the Avengers, and Darcy hasn’t pushed. It’s a relief to drop the chatty façade for once and she needs to time to process and plan. 

They are met in the parking garage by a security team, who put her soulmate through an extensive disarmament. Once the last knife is out, they are led to a meeting room where the Avengers are gathered. Jane's eyes bug out and Thor's jaw goes hard at the bruises forming on Darcy's neck.  

Romanoff's gaze goes straight to her soulmate's metal arm. "Is that who I think it is?" 

The woman who Darcy used to be might have answered more directly, but Darcy Lewis merely shrugs. "Dunno," she answers. “Depends who you think it is. He's my soulmate, though," she adds, pulling her neckline down again as proof. Jane studies her words and nods, slowly.  "And he was sent to capture me, possibly for leverage on Jane."  

The hand in hers tightens in warning, but she's mixed enough truth in with the lie to make it believable.   

Romanoff studies her suspiciously. "There have been several security breaches recently. Could this be connected?" 

Darcy shrugs again and breathes a sigh of relief when Romanoff turns away, frustration written across her face.  

"How do we know he's not here to kill us?" Barton demands. 

Darcy opens her mouth to protest but her soulmate beats her to it.  

"If I was sent to kill you, you'd be dead." 

Captain America sucks in a breath, eyes wide. "Take off your mask," he orders. 

After a moment, the Winter Soldier does so, and Rogers stumbles back, looking as if he's seen a ghost. At his reaction, the rest of the room take up defensive positions. Turning to look at her soulmate’s face for the first time, Darcy finds herself confronted with bright blue eyes and cheekbones that could cut steel. Certainly good looking, but nothing that could fell a supersoldier with looks alone. 

“Bucky?” Rogers asks from behind her, sounding lost and a little angry. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” 

Dredging through her file on Captain America, Darcy realises her initial description of Rogers may be more accurate than she thought. Only now, he looks like he’s seen a ghost _and_ been slapped. 

"How is that even possible?" Jane asks, peering out from behind Thor. "Didn't he die 70 years ago?" 

Everyone looks to the Soldier, who looks about ready to bolt. Darcy squeezes his hand and his shoulders relax marginally. "They froze me," he answers, and Rogers shivers reflexively. 

Stark, uncharacteristically quiet, perks up. "Cryogenics? What did they use? How did they stabilise you? Is the arm insulated against the cold?" 

This is more complicated than she expected. The plan was to beg sanctuary from the Avengers, not – this, whatever this is. Darcy sways and her soulmate drops her hand to steady her. "Can this wait until tomorrow?" she asks plaintively, leaning into his arms. "Please?" 

Rogers looks mutinous, but nods. For his part, Stark actually looks contrite, which is more than she was expecting. Pepper Potts must be a good influence on him; her old training file had him earmarked as being distinctly amoral. "Fine, fine. We are so talking about this later, though." 

The Soldier gives a terse nod, his eyes still on Darcy, who is starting to feel the exhaustion she is feigning.

* * *

Pepper Potts has already organised a suite for them, for which Darcy is deeply grateful. It’s the floor below Jane and Thor and used to be Bruce Banner’s before he ran off with Betty Ross. She’s pretty sure there are some tight security protocols on the elevator, but she’s hardly complaining. 

Jane kindly offers to fetch some more of Darcy’s things. Darcy remembers the Glock lying in her hallway and carefully declines. 

Once they are alone, Darcy activates Friday’s security protocols. Despite her fatigue, she and soulmate silently check the entire apartment, drawing the blinds to make themselves less of a target and booby-trapping the balcony doors. Remembering Barton’s love of air vents, Darcy booby-traps them too. 

Finally, when both are satisfied the apartment is secure, Darcy seats herself on the bed and pats the coverlet beside her in invitation. He shakes his head, takes a position opposite her. 

“So what do I call you?” she asks, voice still raspy. 

He shrugs. “Bucky is as good a name as any. Are you still Daria?” 

 “Darcy, now. Darcy Lewis, born and raised in Pennsylvania, and no one here knows anything to the contrary.” 

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “How long is that going to last?” 

Darcy sighs and lets herself flop backwards in clear violation of every poise and posture lesson she’s ever had. “I am going to think about that tomorrow. How much sleep do you need?” 

“About 3 or 4 hours a night,” he admits grudgingly. 

“Yeah, I need way more than that. And just saying, but I sleep better if no one is moving around my apartment so you can stay up and keep watch or sleep next to me, but choose now.” She doesn’t give him a chance to protest; simply shimmies out of her jeans and under the covers. 

“Lights off, please,” she says, and the room is plunged into darkness. Tired as she is, she doesn’t hear his answer. 

* * *

When she awakens, it’s to an empty bed. Hearing _something_ in the living area, Darcy edges to the doorway. Her soulmate is sitting at the table, scribbling away on a notepad that Bruce must have left behind. As she watches, he tears off the current sheet and shuffles the line of papers in front of him to make room. 

Backing away, Darcy goes to take a shower. When she comes out, the papers are in a neat pile that Bucky is steadfastly ignoring. "There's no food," he notes. 

"There's a common room Jane has let me use in the past," Darcy tells him. "I'm sure we can grab something there. They might even let us eat before starting the interrogation." 

Darcy opens the door to the foyer and freezes. The Black Widow leans next to the elevator, Glock dangling from long fingers. 

“Would you care to explain further?” she asks silkily, and it takes Darcy a moment to realise she’s speaking in Russian. 

_Well, crap._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind words and encouragement! Unfortunately (or not, you tell me), I got seriously bunnied when writing this, so I'm not going to add any more chapters here: I've spun it out to its own work [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8173223).


	43. Personality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has an unconventional choice of hideout, but it might be just what Bucky needs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am officially on holiday for two weeks! I'm going to try and get some writing done but I probably won't be able to post any of it. Don't fret, I haven't abandoned anything.
> 
> Anyway, [FiberBard](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FiberBard/pseuds/FiberBard) requested this setting and [Mandraiv](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandraiv/pseuds/Mandraiv) requested the song. This chapter is based on Personality by Johnny Mercer & The Pied Pipers and I hope you like it.

Bucky looks down at the address on the scrap of paper in his hand dubiously. “This is Barton’s idea of team building?”

“Man, I don’t know,” Sam answers. “But anything that gets us out of Tony’s experiment radius over lunchtime must be a good thing.”

Bucky has to agree. Tony has been glancing at his arm far too many times in the last while, fingers twitching towards his toolbox. The man may be a genius engineer, but Bucky still doesn’t want him anywhere near his arm. Still, this place looks far outside his comfort zone, and he doesn’t make a move towards the door.

“Are we going in or not?” Sam asks, finally, and Bucky squares his shoulders.

“I guess so.”

Crossing the road before he can have second thoughts, they enter the cafe.

Yarn. Yarn everywhere, fuzzy, fluffy, silky, shiny yarn. Balls and skeins piled high and spilling over, shelves and baskets full of the stuff. Booths line the walls, customers chatting and knitting, blankets and sweaters and scarves being created before their eyes.

Barton is slumped at one in the corner, near a cabinet filled with cakes and pastries. He looks up as they enter, grabs something off the table as he beckons them over. “Took you long enough!” he says when they’re close enough, gesturing to the plate of crumbs in front of him. “I ordered some cake for the first monthly meeting of the Keep Stark Away from Our Stuff support group but I ate it all. Get your own.”

“Is that a _sock_?” Bucky asks instead, and Barton flushes. Sam leans over and yanks a nearly finished sock from his hands.

“It _is_ a sock,” Sam says incredulously. “With cables, even.”

“I got roped into a class,” Barton mutters.

“We ain’t hating,” Sam reassures him. “Well, I ain’t. I’m impressed. My nana used to knit hats for the whole family. Still does these days, just with bigger needles.”

“You end up in here a lot?" Bucky asks Barton as Sam meanders over to the food on display.

He brightens. “Fury never thinks to look for me in here. Besides, the staff are great.”

Bucky glances over at the people behind the counter, does a double take. One of the girls is like a pinup come to life, bright red lips and killer curves. Better yet is her smile, bright and cheerful as she takes Sam’s order.

“I see you’ve noticed Darcy,” says Barton from behind him. “Girl’s got a really great… personality! It’s just so out there, if you know what I mean.”

Bucky looks back disapprovingly. “Show a little respect, Barton.”

“What do you mean?” If faking innocent was an Olympic sport, Clint Barton would surely get the gold. “You should go and order,” he advises Bucky helpfully. “There’s getting to be a line.”

* * *

She noticed him when he walked in. Really, he’d be hard to miss, even in a store with a more even gender balance. They do get men in here, now and then, but none who look like _that_. Tall, dark, and handsome, gorgeously well-defined muscles apparent even under his coat...

Emily gives a low whistle. “Check them out!” she hisses, and Darcy realises the object of her scrutiny has a companion, who is pretty easy on the eyes as well. They seem to know one of their regulars, head towards his table. “I hope they’re not together, because I’d love to get to know them better. Especially the one on the right. He looks like he’s got a really big, uh, personality.” Her voice trails off suggestively and Darcy hits her friend in the side.

“Ems, stop objectifying the customers,” she orders, steadfastly ignoring her hypocrisy.

Emily grins. “Don’t lie, Darce, I saw you looking as well.” She turns her attention to the man approaching them. “Heya, how can I help you?”

Darcy turns her attention to the next person in line, then is called away to help with a particularly knotty lace pattern. As punishment for leaving Emily to deal with the line, she is subjected to a smug run down of just how charming their new customers are, and how James is eager to take some classes at the cafe.

* * *

“Seriously, you want to learn how to knit?”

Bucky rubs the back of his neck, shrugs. “Seems like a useful skill to have.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Darcy, would it?” Barton asks knowingly.

“Anything to get away from Tony,” Bucky lies.

Barton laughs.

* * *

What Clint didn't tell him was that Darcy doesn’t knit. She crochets instead, and so the class is taken by a very nice older lady named Monica. Coffee and cookies are free with the cost of lessons, so Bucky doesn’t even get to line up. Darcy sometimes hovers, quietly refilling mugs, but more often than not she’s behind the counter or happily helping someone with their crochet. Every now and then he hears her patiently coaching a confused customer or admiring a particularly pretty piece. Everyone who she talks to seems to finish the conversation smiling and he can't help but fall for her lovely personality.

Bucky finds he quite enjoys the repetitive motions of knitting, but the delicate movements doesn't come naturally and it's slow progress. He’s sworn Sam and Clint to secrecy; sometimes they come along too, though they’re both better suited to the advanced classes. Clint mostly comes along to snark at his technique and make suggestive comments.

One day, however, he and Sam turn up to find Monica is sick and class is cancelled. With nothing better to do and Darcy behind the counter, Bucky decides to take the plunge. There’s a line, but it gives him more time to plan how to ask her out as she greets each customer ahead of him with a cheery “How’re you doing?” or “What can I do for you?”

He’s considered and discarded several approaches by the time he’s at the front of the line, and suddenly she’s in front of him with a dazzling smile, cheerfully asking him “ _how can I be doing you?_ _”_

Sam is taking his first sip of coffee, nearly spits it over the girl who just handed it to him. Emily (her nametag reads) doesn’t seem to notice. “Darcy!” she all but shrieks.

For her own part, Darcy just goes bright red and clamps a hand over her mouth. Without another word, she bolts out the back, the Dutch door swinging in her wake.

With a small laugh, her co-worker turns to Bucky. “Sorry about that- holy creamsicle!”

Bucky follows her gaze to the writing spiralling up his arm. Most days he doesn’t think about it, keeps it covered as a matter of course, but as no-one’s ever commented on his missing arm, he’s felt more comfortable coming in with short sleeves.

“Congratulations, man,” Sam says, peering over his shoulder. “Can I be the one to tell Clint what he missed?”

Emily surveys him critically, lips pursed, then beckons him around to the staff side of the counter. “We’re not supposed to do this, but I think this calls for an exception. Tell her I can handle it out here until one-thirty if she tells me all about it later.” With that, she ushers him through the staff exit that Darcy fled through and turns back to the next customer in line.

“I’ll just wait out here,” Sam calls after him, and slides into a booth with his half-finished scarf.

* * *

She’d been disappointed to hear he’d signed up to learn knitting, not crochet, but it actually gave her more time to watch him. Not in a creepy way, of course. Mostly. Just to see how respectful he was, not just to Monica, but to all the women in the class, and how diligently he worked at each new stitch. Sometimes his friends came and sometimes not, but he showed no signs of discomfort at being the only guy in the store.

Basically, she used the lesson times to nurse a big old crush on the guy and his personality, and the one time she actually gets to talk to him, she makes a complete and utter fool of herself and he must think she is the absolute worst. She’s pretending to do an impromptu stocktake as the door swings open behind her.

“Sorry I rushed out, Ems. I know it’s kinda busy but I can’t show my face out there right now.”

She nearly jumps a foot in the air when the reply is most certainly not Emily.

“ _Actually, it_ _’_ _s pretty quiet out there, and you_ _’_ _re not needed for a while. Can I take you out to lunch instead?_ ”

It takes a few moments for the words to sink in, another few to rearrange her face into something more neutral than “stunned and ecstatic”.

Finally she turns, smiles shyly. “I’d love to.”

He offers her his arm, some kind of gleaming prosthetic that she’s admired previously. She takes it, leads him to the back exit. They’re halfway down the road when he curses softly.

“What is it?” Darcy asks, worried.

Bucky sighs. “I just remembered I have to thank Clint for this. He’s going to hold it over our heads _forever_.”


	44. Shut Up and Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sure, the op might've gone south, but Bucky's hardly complaining...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my songfic based on the songficciest song to ever be. Fun fact: this song was on my playlist for months, but I removed it just before I started writing these things and only recently worked out how to fit it in. I'm on holiday and posting this from my tablet, so apologies for any typos. Let me know if you spot any and I'll fix them when I am reunited with my laptop.
> 
> This chapter is based on the song Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon for the album Talking is Hard

_Dammit_.

Beside him, he can see Natalia mouthing curses. There wasn't supposed to be _anyone_ here, let alone AIM foot soldiers who are far more heavily armed than a simple research lab should need.

"We have to split up," Natalia murmurs. "I'll get the intel. You blow the external servers and get out."

He nods. He might be highly skilled, but Natalia is the master infiltrator.

"Try not to kill anyone," she reminds him, before disappearing up the hallway on silent feet.

He doesn't need the reminder, but holds still for a few moments before heading into the stairwell. They've looped the security footage so nothing amiss should show up on the cameras, but hadn't counted on the patrols, who will also fail to show up. This shortens their window considerably.

He makes it to the server room without a problem, lays the charges and waits for his cue. His earpiece crackles – static to the uninformed observer, to him, the predetermined pattern. He starts the detonator and hurtles down the corridor, right past the security room, thumping on the door as he goes. This is the most difficult part of the operation. The security room is supposed to be unoccupied right now. He'll have to get the guards out of the room, but alert them too early and they might notice and disarm the charges.

Of course, Natalia has timed it perfectly. Men pour out of the room just as the first of the charges go off. There is a burst of gunfire by his head as he rounds the corner ahead, but thankfully, they decide evacuation is the smarter option.

His earpiece crackles again, an order to go to Plan B. He skips the stairwell in favour of smashing his way out of the window, catching the attention of the guards already outside. Natalia gives him a quick nod and vanishes into an alley as her pursuers focus on the more obvious target, and then he is on the ground and running.

Plan B has him aiming for Neon Row, the club district of the small town nearest to the Avengers' Complex in upstate New York. It is a student city, and so the clubs are still buzzing even at this hour.

Casting his eyes along the glowing signs, he identifies the club Natalia had specified. He's not sure why this one caught her attention, but he has memorised all three exits and the bouncer knows not to bother him. Stripping off his black tac gear and stuffing it in a nearby bin, he straightens his collar and heads inside.

His eyes quickly adjust to the strobing lights as he scans the crowd. On reflection, a club may not have been the best place to hide. Nearly everyone here is paired up; alone, he sticks out like a sore thumb.

There are a few singles around, though, and he considers picking out one to approach. Before he has the opportunity, a pretty brunette comes up to him with a playful smile.

 _"Do I know you?_ " he asks, trying to project his voice over the booming music. " _You look familiar._ " It obviously fails to reach her, because she just cocks her head at him in confusion.

He's opened his mouth to repeat himself when she shrugs, lays one finger across his lips. Only with his enhanced hearing can he hear as she tells him to " _Shut up and dance with me._ "

Stunned, he follows her out to the dance floor. She's all curves and energy and while he initially doesn't know where to put his hands, it doesn't take them long to find a rhythm. When a dip in the music comes around, he takes his chance. He leans forward and murmurs into her ear "What I was saying was, do I know you? You look familiar."

For a moment, she stiffens in his arms and he fears he's made a mistake, but then she looks him up and down and graces him with a smile that stops his breath for a second.

"I work at the AC," she tells him. "Jane Foster's lab. Pretty sure I've seen you around too."

"Well, fancy that. Care to go out for a coffee sometime?"

"I'd love to."

* * *

The club is packed, but none of the single men fit their target's description. There's one of a couple who looks close, but he's looking far too cosy with his partner to have been the one who just blew up the lab they were supposed to be guarding. Privately admitting defeat, the AIM guards leave to check the next club along.


	45. Only One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rockband!Avengers au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this au, the Avengers are one of those bands that keeps changing members, so Bruce is not in this. I'm sorry these take so long to come out. I promise I have not forgotten any prompts; they're just percolating a while...
> 
> This chapter is based on the song Only One by Mikey Wax, I hope you enjoy it!

“No flippin’ way! Thor’s actually your soulmate? Thor, drummer-of-the-Avengers-we’re-going-to-see-in-concert-tonight-Thor?”

Jane nods, grin splitting her face. “I don’t think there are any others, but yeah.”

Darcy pouts into the mirror, checking her lipstick. “You are going to have to tell me everything.”

“Okay, but first you gotta know it wasn’t my fault. I’m relatively sure he‘ll be able to play tonight…”

“What!?”

* * *

Apparently soulmate privileges include being escorted to one of the VIP areas right in front of the stage. As drummer, Thor is at the back of the stage, but the stage is tiered enough that he can trade smouldering glances with Jane between songs. It would be sappier if the proximity didn’t allow Darcy a close-up view of Steve, the lead guitarist. He’s actually only her second favourite, but her favourite is catering to the fangirls on the other side of the stage, and Steve’s arms are difficult to ignore. Technically, Thor's arms are more impressive, but best friends' soulmates are off-limits.

The lead singer does a flip mid-song and the crowd goes wild. The fanfic has her paired with practically every other member of the band, but this song has her singing directly to the keyboardist, running one hand through spiky blond hair before posing back to back with the electric guitarist. Darcy snaps a photo for Facebook then slots her phone away. 

The setlist is incredible and Darcy reckons this is the best line-up the Avengers had ever had. The hot new bassist certainly doesn’t hurt, even if he doesn’t _once_ come over to their side. She can deal, though, because Jane has backstage passes.

After the show they go to the door backstage and are met by a slim redhead who Darcy recognises immediately. “Pepper Potts? I follow you on instagram! You’re like the coolest person on my feed!” 

Pepper blinks in surprise. “You follow my instagram? But I only post-“ 

Darcy nods solemnly. “Your boyfriend and his band are all over Twitter. I don’t need them on instagram too.” 

Pepper eyes her sceptically, but shrugs in acceptance. “So which of you is Jane? Thor’s descriptions just got more and more flowery and less and less useful, and he didn’t even take a selfie together! I swear that guy’s from a different century or something.”

Jane’s face lights up at Thor’s name and Darcy’s stomach drops, adrenalin from the concert already draining away. She lets Jane follow Pepper down the corridor in front of her as she mulls over her feelings. She’s happy for her friend, of course, but there’s a kernel of resentment and a hefty dose of envy. How come Jane gets a rockstar soulmate and Darcy’s hasn’t even had the decency to turn up yet?

Ahead of her, Pepper chats with Jane about travelling with the band; Darcy’s only half listening. Her pity party is in full swing by the time they get to the dressing room.

“There’s a meet and greet tonight,” Pepper tells them. “It should be over soon.”

Darcy makes a beeline for the coffee machine in the corner as Pepper settles into an armchair and Jane paces, teeth worrying her bottom lip nervously. "What if they don't like me?" she asks. "I'm a physics student, not a model or anything."

Pepper looks up from her phone. "I'm studying commerce and human resources. I'm not exactly typical band girlfriend either, but we make it work."

Jane takes a couple of deep breaths, nods. "Okay. I can do this. I-"

The door springs open and Thor bursts through exuberantly. "Jane! You are here!"

Jane spins, beaming, and Darcy takes note. During the concert, that wasn't sappy. _This_ is sappy _._ Jane gestures at Darcy, who gives a smile and a half-hearted wave, but doesn't move to join them.

She perches by the coffee machine, mug in hand, as the rest of the band stream in and are introduced to Jane, who tears her attention from Thor just long enough to greet them before returning her gaze to her soulmate's face.

The electric guitarist plucks the phone from a laughing Pepper's fingers to steal a kiss. The lead singer swings her legs over the keyboardist's lap as he pulls a hearing aid from his ear with a look of relief. The lead guitarist and the bassist (often shipped together by the same fans who send them marriage proposals over Twitter) are surrounded by fans, who must've somehow scored extra tickets backstage. All of them are female, tall and skinny in a way Darcy will never be.

What's she even doing here? She's not one of the band, nor one of their partners like Pepper. She's not even one of their biggest fans, though she enjoys their music well enough. She's just the weird girl sitting alone in the corner.

Pushing the self-pity aside, Darcy hugs her coffee mug and tries to feel happy for her friend.

* * *

Bucky pastes on a smile as he gently pries the fan's hand from his arm. She pouts but takes the opportunity to press herself closer to him. Silently he curses Nat for inviting these fans back with them. Nat knows him from way back, and he knows she's just trying to help him and Steve, but her attempts to set them up are really scraping the bottom of the barrel. These girls are lovely, but they are so focussed on who they think he is, who they paid hundreds of dollars to meet. One can't stop gushing about how _charming_ and _smooth_ he is and their expectations sit oddly on his shoulders. Not for the first time, he wonders if joining the Avengers was the right choice.

Thor introduces him to his soulmate - the famous Jane - and one of the girls looks up at him from under long lashes. "Lucky for some, right? I don't have a soulmark. I used to be disappointed, but now I just enjoy the freedom." The suggestive tone of these last words earns her a glare from the girl on his other side and he trades a helpless look with Steve, who has his own gaggle of admirers. Being in the band has been good for Steve: he never used to be good with girls, but sometime in the last few years he's gotten adept at handling their attention.

Bucky looks around for another source of rescue, skips over Nat and Clint on the sofa, and notices an unfamiliar girl by the coffee machine. She's clutching a mug and watching Thor. No, not Thor. His soulmate.

Vaguely he remembers Thor requesting two VIP passes: one for his soulmate and one for her friend. He never caught a name, but this must be her.

He can't help but think she'd be stunning if she smiled, but she's watching the happy couple wistfully, even sadly. She looks away from them and for a second, she meets his gaze, and he feels his own sense of displacement reflected back at him. Struck by an impulse he doesn't quite understand, he makes some meaningless excuse to the girls he is with and makes his way across the room.

Upon reaching her side, he realises he doesn't know what to say to her, and she is the one to break the silence.

" _There's a difference between envy and jealousy, you know? And right now, I'm not sure which one I'm feeling and the whole thing just makes feel awful._ " She doesn't look at him as she speaks, preferring to trace the lipstick mark on her empty mug with a finger.

He replies without thinking too hard about how familiar the words are. " _Let's get out of here, then. I don't think they'd notice at this point._ "

There's a sharp intake of breath, then she looks up at him. He was right: she really is stunning when she smiles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers are known for their hits 'Saving the World', 'Radioactive', and 'Budapest'. And yes, Jane hit Thor with her car. It was an accident, alright?


	46. Like Real People Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following Jane to Washington was perhaps not the best move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is based on the song Like Real People Do by Hozier, as requested by the lovely [cutie_bug](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cutie_bug/pseuds/cutie_bug). It's a little darker than most of my stuff, I think? Don't worry, I PROMISE that I have more fluff planned.

Darcy doesn’t really know how she ended up working for SHIELD. She’d meant to leave the whole science intern thing behind, but soon after she ranted to Jane about the lack of jobs for poli-sci grads, her friend had been offered a job with SHIELD in Washington. Thor planned to be located near the Avengers anyway, so Jane had accepted, and had made Darcy a condition of her employment.

It would have been ungrateful to refuse, and a job is a job. A quick survey of her graduating class has her in the minority with a full-time job, including those in retail and fast food; less than ten have a job even vaguely related to their degree. She’s pretty much paid to hang out with her best friend. Really, it’s great.

If only the other lab assistants didn’t hate her.

They seem to resent Darcy’s lack of a degree in a hard science. Apparently, being in the same room as any of the august minds that Jane works with is a huge honour in and of itself, not to be shared with lesser beings. It doesn’t matter that she finally has her degree; it’s in the wrong discipline.

Darcy’s got thick skin, but the snubs, the ‘forgotten’ invites to post-work drinks, the continuous theft of her coffee, it starts to rub. Instead, she makes friends with the security guards, who couldn’t care less about the letters behind her name. There are two who are normally stationed near Jane’s lab. They always smile at her jokes and if her constant discussion of pop culture bores them, they don't let it show.

Maxie’s eyes sharpen as Darcy finishes reccing the YouTube musical she binged last night. “Do you believe that?”

“What, that the needs of the many bugs outweigh the few? Yeah, I guess so.”

"But in the real world? Is the community-centric principal still viable in this individualistic world we live in?"

Darcy blinks. This is the most philosphical she's ever seen Maxie; far more than his usual snarky one-liners and casual flirting. Graham's the one who actually talks to her most of the time.

"Uh, yeah," she says, realising he's waiting for an answer. "that's kind of the whole point of the thing - working out how to fit your dreams and ambitions into the greater good."

Maxie looks thoughtful. "That's an interesting perspective you've got there."

That Friday, one of the other lab techs invites Darcy out for a drink. Darcy's trying to formulate a polite refusal when Alana clarifies that's it's for a group of the lab staff. "We just go out every couple of weeks, blow off some steam with people who have signed the same NDAs."

Relieved, Darcy agrees. Alana gives her the address of a small bar some blocks from their facility. They have a back room booked out: It's a mixed bunch of techs, admin staff, assistants and even a few of the researchers. Maxie's the only one she knows well, but they're all welcoming enough. They have a few drinks, and if some of them get a little extreme in denouncing the government they work for, well, Darcy doesn't want to rock the boat by disagreeing when she's finally got a social circle outside of Jane.

The next week at work, Darcy finds herself suddenly part of a group. She gets greetings in the corridors, invited on coffee breaks, and someone finally comes by to move the equipment in Jane's lab that was left behind by the previous scientist. Alana invites her out to drinks again, and Darcy happily agrees. The conversation always swings around to politics, and everyone's very interested in what the Political Science major has add to the conversation. Darcy has always considered herself quite the neo-liberalist, but her new friends make some convincing points.

Apart from politics, the other main topic of conversation is unsurprisingly science. Darcy enjoys hearing what the other scientists are working on (Mala does cryogenics, Jensen specialises in biochemistry) and shares what she can understand of Jane's research. It's a diverse group of scientists for a single facility, but it used to be an old bank and the different research areas are located all over the building. Darcy's never even seen Mala's lab, so it's interesting to get an idea of what she does.

Darcy's life has settled into a rather comfortable pattern when everything goes to hell.

The first she hears of it, Captain America is a fugitive from SHIELD and the labs are placed on high security alert. The next morning, Jane refuses to go in to work, even as their security detail waits outside.

"Tell them I'm sick," Jane insists, and Darcy has no choice but to accede.

Maxie is concerned, offers to call a SHIELD in-house doctor for her. Darcy thinks fast.

"It's PMS, Maxie. Doubt he'd be able to do anything about that. Don't worry about her. I've stocked her up with chocolate and a hot water bottle, she'll be fine."

Maxie doesn't quite make a face, but at least he stops pushing.

Truth be told, even without Jane in the lab, Darcy has a ton of paperwork to do. When some cryptic text box pops up on her screen and won't go away, it's more of an annoyance than anything.

At her irritated exclamation, Graham comes over to check her screen.

"Out of the darkness and into the light? What does that even mean?" he asks, as gunshots rattle outside. His head snaps up and he draws his gun; Darcy notices Maxie doing the same from by the door.

There is a shot from inside the lab and Graham wobbles, then collapses onto Darcy's desk, expression surprised and gun dropping from limp fingers. Darcy tears her gaze from the slowly spreading pool of red to the barrel of Maxie's gun.

"Wha- why did you shoot him?"

Maxie holsters his gun and turns to her. "I'm sorry, Darcy, but he wouldn't have understood."

"Understood? Understood _what_? What is going on?"

"We're building a new world. Just like we talked about."

He studies her as she gapes at him, frowns. "I wish we'd had more time, Darcy. You had so much potential."

"Are you going to shoot me too?" She's quite proud her voice barely shakes.

"No, Dr Foster's research is important, and you've proven to be the best at keeping her focused. We better go fetch her now. She'd be much safer here."

He makes to leave and Darcy grabs Graham's gun. "Don't move."

Maxie turns, almost smiles. "What are you doing, Darcy? Where would you go? The facility is ours and everyone on the other side knows you're with us."

Darcy ignores the sick feeling that he's right, the realisation that all her so called friends must be in on this - whatever this is.

Maxie spreads his arms expansively, comes towards her, stopping only when she flicks the safety off. "Come on, Darce. You're not going to shoot me. I'm your friend."

Darcy realises she is crying and swipes one hand across her cheeks.

"Like Graham was your friend?" she snaps, and pulls the trigger.

After that, it's all a bit of a blur of running and hiding and ducking through a door she had assumed was a closet but turns out to be a corridor and the sounds of pursuit grow closer so she keeps going until she is hopelessly lost in this part of the building that she's never been before. Voices from ahead make her freeze and she darts through the nearest door.

* * *

_I'm with you to the end of the line._

Voices, memories, cascading through his head, shattering his conditioning as they fall from the sky. He _knows_ those words, and doesn’t know them at the same time, like how his body remembers the feel of his Sig Sauer though he has no conscious memory of ever firing it before.

He pulls Steve out of the water and stumbles away.

He needs to think, needs to clear his head. There are too many holes, too many things he doesn’t know. Hell, he doesn't even know his own name, hadn't even considered that he should have one.

With a jolt, he remembers the man on the bridge – Steve – naming him. _Bucky_ , Steve had said, and he had almost remembered – but then came the chair.

Jaw clenched, he stops. They will come after him – that is certain – and they will likely subject him to the chair again. As long as he is free, he will be running from the chair, unless he can remove its threat.

Decision made, he returns to the base through the back entrance, as per his orders. It is obvious there has been fighting here - bodies slump at desks or lie fallen across the floor, where there was once quiet industry. He passes some survivors in the corridor, but they take one look at him and let him pass.

In the room with the chair, there are two scientists. One packs away equipment, reassures the other as he stuffs documents into a case. They look up at his entrance, fear and relief warring across their expressions, and he remembers what they made him do.

"Mission report," one orders, voice shaking, grabbing an electric baton.

"It's done," he reports mechanically. "Captain America is dead."

Both men exhale in relief, relax, and as they turn to each other, he strikes.

They are paper-pushers, researchers, and are no match for him. A single punch sends one to the floor. Another punch, and the other goes flying across the room. Now they are no threat to him, he turns his attention to the chair. Wires crackle and spark but he does not stop, pulling and crushing until it is so many useless parts. At some point, the scientists crawl out of the room, and he considers making them pay for what they did, but the blood on his hands overwhelms him and he returns to his destruction.

Once it is done, he retraces his path outside, contemplative and aimless. The labs are deserted, save for the dead, and his boots on the linoleum are the only sound.

Well, not quite. Sharp ears pick up _something_ as he passes a nondescript door. Opening the door, he looks inside. The room is gloomy and the automatic lights do not flicker on. It is seemingly empty, but some instinct has him step inside. Glass crunches beneath his boots and he realises that someone has smashed the lights.

There is a flicker of movement behind him and he spins as a figure darts towards the door he just entered by. He reaches out, snags her – and it's definitely a ‘her’ – by the arm.

She's been crying. Her eyes are red and puffy and he can see where tears have trailed down her face. Somehow, the sight strikes him as wrong, though she does not feature in his admittedly patchy memory.

" _You have blood on your face_ ," he notes, taking in the rusty streaks across her face. She freezes.

" _What- what did you say?_ "she squeaks. " _Dude, this is so not happening today_."

Those words… he knows those words too, though he knows he has never heard them before. They march down his arm, coil around his wrist. If only he could remember what they mean…

He blinks. "Is this how one is supposed to greet one's soulmate?"

"No, but it has been a very long day." She goes to push her hair from her face, stares at the gun she holds in horror. It is an unremarkable Colt M1911 but her fingers clench convulsively and she tears it from her own grasp and flings it across the room.

"This is not how this is supposed to happen!” she says, and her hands are trembling.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, tugging her out into the corridor where the light is better.

“It’s not my bl- holy crap, are you?”

He considers this, shrugs. His ribs are probably fractured and his shoulder aches. She’s probably referring to the cuts on his face though, which barely sting.

She runs a careful hand under the one on his jaw. “What happened to you?”

At his flinch, she would have snatched her hand back, but he catches it in his own and their fingers tangle. She drops her gaze to them: his metal hand and her bloodstained fingers, silver and red.

“Do I even wanna know?”

He shakes his head and she nods in understanding, her lips pressed in a tight line.

“What happens now?” he wonders. He is without orders, his mind swirls with memories, possibilities, horrors, but right here, right now, she is real.

“Just... just hold me.”

So he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think, because this one kinda got away from me! (so what else is new, right?)
> 
> Bonus points if you can name the musical Darcy is enjoying at the beginning.


	47. God Made Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is feeling down so Steve rallies the troops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been pretty busy, but I'm hoping to get a bit more done before NaNoWriMo because that will SERIOUSLY impact my writing time. This chapter is based on the song God Made Girls by RaeLynn, as requested by Shea. I hope y'all enjoy it :)

I'm sorry to leave so soon, Buck, but there's a situation in Europe and..."

"And it was one of the conditions of my pardon that you make yourself available," Bucky finishes. "Yeah, I get it."

"I wish they'd lifted the off-site supervision clause. Stark could assign you an escort -"

Bucky shakes his head. "I don't need a babysitter. Don't worry about it, punk. I'll just hide out in my rooms. It's not like anyone wants to be around the Winter Soldier anyway."

He shuts the door in Steve's face, completely misses the determined set of his friend's jaw.

* * *

There's a kitchenette in his apartment, but only the most basic of supplies, so he is soon forced to take his meals in the staff cafeteria.

He's collecting his cutlery when the woman beside him looks down at his tray with a derisive sniff.

"Is that all you're eating? You need at least three times those calories to maintain your muscle mass."

"This is all they gave me," he tells her, and she rounds on the chap behind the counter.

"Is that right? Make a note, please. Sargent Barnes requires double portions and the extra protein option. We don't want those muscles wasting away."

"Yes, Dr Cho," he mumbles, dishing out more food for Bucky, and she turns to him, satisfied.

"Right then. Where are we sitting?"

* * *

Dr Cho - Helen - doesn't always make it to meals, but she makes a point to check that Bucky is eating well. For the first time in decades, he eats until he is satisfied.

He is finishing a meal that could've fed his entire family during the depression when Natalia slides into the seat opposite.

"Good meal?" she asks in Russian, and he nods shortly.

A meatball bounces off his nose and he snaps his attention back to her.

"You're getting soft," she says, eyes dancing with amusement. "Come and spar with me. I promise I'll go easy on you."

She doesn't, and beats him three bouts from a painful five. By the time they're done, they have an audience, including Dr Cho, who orders then both to her clinic for a checkup afterwards.

They train together most nights after that, and Helen teaches them to prep their own ice packs.

* * *

He's wiping down a training dummy when Maria Hill walks past. When she stops, some long-forgotten instinct has him stand to attention.

“I hear you used to train Red Room recruits. I need someone to take the advanced combat group tomorrow morning and you’re not doing anything then.”

There’s no question in her words but he nods anyway.

The combat class might be scared of him, but they fear Hill more, and by the end of their ‘warmup’ they hate him too much to flinch when he walks past and corrects their form. He tags Natalia as a demonstration partner now and then; Barton had to be strongly dissuaded from posting the videos on YouTube.

* * *

One member of his class is a tiny brunette with sad eyes. Her brother doesn’t need training but Hill has decided she does, and no one argues with Hill. She’s always pulling her punches until he snaps at her in Russian and she strikes out, her eyes flashing red.

For a moment he is inside his own mind – not a prisoner, but an observer – and the battlefield of his mind is spread out before him. Dark lines of conditioning and jagged reins of control overlay a landscape pitted with holes and barriers. Some areas are fogged, others are no more than blurred outlines – and then he is back in his own body, looking out at his student.

“I can help,” Wanda offers tentatively but looks infinitely relieved when he refuses. She stops holding back and he didn't see the red glow again.

* * *

He’s resting up after one of the early morning training sessions when a quiet knock sounds at his door. Outside stands a tall brunette, staring at her feet. She looks up when he opens the door, and the words pour out in a quiet rush.

“Sergeant Barnes? I was wondering if you wanted to come to church with me?”

He blinks. “I’m not Catholic if that’s what you’re wondering. That was Steve.”

“I know. Well, I mean, Nan says you used to pull her pigtails through the pews at St Michael’s.”

Bucky squints at her, matches her face against the memories of a long-ago Brooklyn. Something about her frizzy curls… “Grace Mackenzie?”

A smile spreads across her face. “That was her name, yeah. I’m Gracie, too. I’m in HR.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Gracie.” He offers her his arm. “I would be delighted to accompany you.”

Little by little he coaxes Gracie out of her shell; by the time they're at the church she's told him all about her family: her Nan, her parents, and her fiancé, currently out of the country.

He’d forgotten the peace that can be found in a church. Only in the quiet of the chapel does he realise how neatly he’s been handled.

Once the service is over he pulls Gracie aside. “Who put you up to this?”

Gracie ducks her head, shy once more. “Steve might have mentioned that you were a bit lonely.”

“And it was your idea to drag me to church?” It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it, but the thought of being manipulated doesn’t sit well with him.

She nods. “The rest was Darcy, though.”

“Darcy?”

Gracie risks a look up at him, flashes him a quick grin. “You’ll see.”

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Amy comes through to decorate his stark apartment, Hope makes a few upgrades to his arm, Jessica sets him up with Twitter, Sharon teaches him how to drive, and Emily somehow manages to procure a supply of Rowntree’s chocolate, just like he remembers from his childhood. Truth be told, it’s almost overwhelming. When Saturday night kicks off with a knock on his door, he nearly doesn’t answer.

When he does, it takes him a moment to drag his jaw off the floor. There’s a pin-up at his door, only she’s flesh and blood, not paper and ink, and dressed like one of those girls Steve toured with, back when he was selling bonds.

" _Are you the one taking care of me today?_ " he asks.

Her lips, cherry-red and luscious, curve into a smile. ” _I was just going to ask if you wanted to go out dancing tonight, but yes, I guess I am. For the rest of your life too, I hope._ ”

He offers her his arm - the metal one, not that one could tell by looking, these days - and she takes it. "I think I'd like that."

"I'm Darcy, by the way."

"So it's you I have to thank for the steady stream of people through my door?"

"Kinda? It was Steve who asked me to, but I'm guessing you already knew that." She looks up at him, concerned. "Was it too much?"

He pretends to think for a moment, but really, there's no question. His days are filled with people he doesn't have to kill. He's comfortable, well fed, and _this_ close to getting his driver's licence. "I don't know how I can thank you enough."

Darcy looks up at him through her lashes, smiles. "If you're stuck, I might have a few ideas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus: "Befriend! I told you to befriend him, not seduce him!"  
> "You can't argue with fate, Steve. Stop spluttering, there's a dear."


	48. The Way I Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Steve brings his old buddy to the Avengers Complex, he doesn't ask about the word on Bucky's forearm. No-one wants to know why a former assassin has the word "wait" as a matched soulmark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this ended up longer than expected. Took longer, too! I hope you enjoy it: it's kinda-sorta-not really based on You've Got Mail and the song the Way I Do by Starkid from the musical Starship. Just know that only unmatched soulmarks fade when their speaker dies.

Being kidnapped, Darcy decides, _sucks._ She'd freaking _told_ Jane that she didn't like SHIELD, and okay, maybe she's still a little bitter about her iPod, but the tour of their labs is going well enough until she steps out onto the street and is dragged into an unmarked white van. A smelly cloth is pressed over her face and the world gets fuzzy and dark. Way to be original, guys.

When she comes to, the world is dark and cold. She's blindfolded and her arms and legs are wrenched behind her and bound tight. It feels like tape of some sort; the same is over her mouth. She tugs and pulls, but all she succeeds in doing is rubbing her wrists and ankles raw.

She had left her taser at home for the SHIELD tour, a decision she is now bitterly regretting. Concentrating hard, she can hear the sounds of fighting somewhere. As it fades away, she wriggles back until she hits a wall.

She's losing feeling in her legs when a door opens and footsteps near. Someone slices through her restraints, tugs her upright, and pulls off her blindfold.

" _The exit is to the left and down the stairs._ " With that advice, her rescuer turns to leave.

Blinking against the sudden burst of light and rubbing her poor legs, it takes her a moment too long to recognise those words. " _Wait!_ "

He flinches and doesn't stop, even as her legs fail to support her. By the time she can stand, her soulmate is long gone.

* * *

Soulmarks were somewhat of a dilemma for the handlers. Their existence and significance could not be erased from the Asset without seriously compromising performance, but any attempt to manipulate left the Asset similarly unstable. The Asset would sometimes return from missions, mark gouged and bloody, and they would have to perform a full wipe. Eventually, they decided to ignore the mark on the Asset's arm and wipe as necessary.

It had taken some months of freedom before he had noticed it as anything more than a meaningless mark, a few days after that for its true significance to register. He could read it, but his patchy memories informed him that was normal, and there was no-one he trusted enough to ask if they also could read it.

His memories also provide far too many instances of people saying his Mark, generally mere seconds before he kills them. He had still hoped that somehow he wasn't yet matched, that his mark was still unreadable. When Steve's gaze rests on his arm and curiosity turned to sympathy, he understands his hope is futile and something inside him breaks a little.

* * *

She's trying to finish some final filing when a short knock on the door makes her look up. The man filling the doorway is unfamiliar – well, Darcy is sure she would remember a lab assistant who looked like _that_.

"Yes?"

"I'm looking for Dr. Cho's lab?"

That _voice_. The pain of rejection slices through her again, makes her snappish. "This is Dr. Foster's lab. Helen is down that way."

Her abrupt tone has those broad shoulders stiffening, his tone terse in return. 'Thank you."

Darcy tries to return to her task but the possible reappearance of her soulmate has unsettled her. She can't help but keep replaying their first meeting, short it was. How could he just _leave_ like that? Is it really him? Shaking her head to clear the memory, she concludes it can’t have been. She probably just snapped at some innocent guy with a similar voice.

A few days later, she finds herself next to Helen in line for lunch at the staff cafeteria.

“Hey, did Grumpy McMuscles find you on Tuesday?”

“Who? You mean Bucky Barnes? Yeah, he just had to have a routine checkup.”

Darcy frowns in recognition. “Bucky, like Captain America's sidekick?”

Helen stares. “Exactly like that. What rock have you been living under?”

 “Jane was researching in Antarctica and the data roaming charges sucked. How is that even possible?”

A shrug. “It’s a long story - you could ask him. Now, I have a lunchtime phone conference to listen in on so I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” Darcy mutters, peering around the room. She locates him easily. Despite the crowded cafeteria, there is a two seat buffer between Bucky and everyone else. Taking a breath and gripping her tray tightly, she marches over.

* * *

He might have to leave his rooms to eat, but at least the locals have the good sense to stay away. They _think_ they've removed all the triggers from his head, but why take the risk? Better that they keep their distance, assuage their curiosity from afar.

He notices her approach without looking up, assumes she is merely going past until she drops her tray in front of him with a clatter. The room goes silent.

Startled, he looks up. It's that girl from a few days ago, from Dr Foster's lab. She matches his glare with a determined smile, slides into the seat opposite. When he doesn't immediately go for her throat, conversation around them slowly resumes.

"Hi. I think we got off to a bad start. I'm Darcy."

He shovels another mouthful in, doesn't reply. Her smile dims but stays stubbornly in place as she prods at her meal. "What is this stuff, anyway? Stark hires these Michelin chefs and they make these fancy pants foods I can't even pronounce even if I knew what they were."

She gives him a curious look as he stays silent. "Not much for talking, are you? 'S okay, Jane says I talk enough for two people."

Underneath the prattle he can sense her nerves, decides to throw her a bone.

"Bucky."

She halts mid-sentence. "Huh?"

"My name is Bucky. Or at least, that's what I think it is. Some days I’m not too sure.”

Her lips quirk up into another smile, uncertain but somehow more genuine. “Well, Bucky, it’s nice to meet you properly. I’m sorry I wasn’t the nicest when you were looking for Helen before. Drowning in paperwork, you see?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, now I’m worrying about it because I was downright rude and you don’t deserve that.”

Bucky makes an uncomfortable gesture with his shoulders. “Pretty sure some would disagree with you there, doll.”

“What, why?”

He looks disbelieving, but her blank stare must convince him she truly doesn’t know. He sighs.

“I killed Director Fury, along with a lot of other people.”

“No, I heard about that. It was some super assassin – oh. That was you?”

A nod.

“Why’d you do that?”

An unconvincing shrug. “Because they told me to, I suppose.”

“They?”

“HYDRA.”

Darcy shudders, remembering her 10th Grade History. He must take her disgust as aimed at him because his face closes off and he leaves with his tray before she can formulate a response.

* * *

She doesn’t see him for a few days after that, mostly because Jane has another conference and Darcy is hard pressed to sort, record, and collate the results from their last research trip in time. The first chance she has to breathe comes as they wait at JFK for their flight to Geneva. Stark offered his jet, of course, but neither Darcy nor Jane felt okay about accepting it.

It’s fine, though, because their flights are paid for by the conference and the business class lounge has free WiFi and bottomless booze. Darcy grabs a glass of wine and some of the canapés and kicks back with her laptop.

Technically, she should be researching a topic for her Master’s Degree, but instead she googles ‘Bucky Barnes’. The search results are far newer than she would’ve expected a week ago. There’s a Wikipedia page on the Winter Soldier, some old news reports and a whole host of opinion pieces. Bucky’s right: the majority of the public are not in favour of his ‘rehabilitation’. They list kill stats and assassinations, look like a cross between conspiracy theorists and serial killer groupies. There are others that are make references to brainwashing and torture, and some of the commentators are surprisingly sympathetic.

When their flight is called, Darcy has a lot to think about.

* * *

The conference is a short one, and soon Darcy and Jane are back at the Avengers Complex. The first thing Darcy does (after dumping their luggage and stealing back the clothes that inevitably make their way into Jane’s bag) is track down Helen.

She finds the doctor in her office, looking over some reports. She looks up from them with a smile.

“Darcy! When did you get back?”

“Oh, a couple of hours ago. Got the rest of the day off from science as Jane, uh, catches up with Thor…”

“Fair enough.” Helen looks at her closely. “You didn’t just search me out for the company, did you?”

Darcy shuffles her feet, can’t look Helen in the eye. “I had some time at the airport to look up Bucky Barnes. Some of the articles said- Was he really-“

“The Winter Soldier? You should talk to him about that.”

“No! I just want to know if it was his choice!”

Helen purses her lips in thought. “There are a few schools of thought on that, but HYDRA had him pretty much under their thumb, so I’d say he didn’t. A lot of those rumours are quite close to the truth and that’s about all I can tell you without breaking confidentiality. Not that my opinion will make one whit of difference to those idiots on the internet!”

Darcy nods. “Okay, thanks.”

* * *

He looks up as she drops her tray in front of him again. The cafeteria is emptying post-meal, but he prefers a late lunch – and apparently, so does she. "You again."

"Me again. What is this pastry thing anyway?"

He ignores her question, has one his own. "They haven't warned you off me yet?"

"Nope. It wouldn't work anyway "

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "You do realise how dangerous I am?"

"Thor's dangerous, and he spends a lot of time with us in Jane's lab. Possibly too much time, given how fragile everything is in there."

"I've killed people."

"So has he. Besides, it's not your fault. You didn't choose to do those things."

"I still did them," he mutters.

"Would you do them again?"

He looks horrified by the very suggestion. "No! Of course not."

"There you are, then."

From his expression, he is about to disagree so Darcy changes the subject. “What do you think of the future?”

He makes a face. “I expected flying cars by now.”

They have lunch together – well, she catches in the cafeteria him more afternoons than not, and little by little she gleans his opinions on everything from movies to the chef’s latest bizarre creations. It’s clear he’s not used to talking, but Darcy’s judicious use of chatter seems to make him forget his reticence.

Darcy’s trying to explain Cards Against Humanity when Jessica drops into the seat beside Darcy's and sticks her forearm before Darcy's eyes.

"Darce! Look!"

"'Excuse me, do you have a baby kangaroo?'" Darcy reads. "Wait-"

"I met my soulmate!" Jessica squeals and Darcy notices Bucky flinch.

"That's great, Jess!" Darcy tries to inject some enthusiasm into her voice, fails.

Jess cocks her head at her quizzically but is distracted by the man across from them. "Oh! Um. Hi! Am I interrupting?"

"Not really," Bucky says and rises to leave.

* * *

He doesn't come to the cafeteria the next day or the day after that, and then Jane and Darcy have to go back to Antarctica for some follow-up research. The Avengers Complex is more of a stopping place and storage for their things than home, Darcy reflects, but at least it's a comfortable one.

Back at the airport lounge, wineglass in hand, she watches some interviews of Bucky from when Cap first brought him in. She’d felt weird about doing this when seeing him nearly every day, but the wine makes her daring. He does not come across as very communicative, but Darcy reckons she’s pretty good at reading him by now. His eyes are a lot more expressive than that pretty mouth of his.

"Have you got a soulmark?" one particularly nosy reporter asks in the most recent interview, and Bucky's face goes blank. He is clenching and unclenching his fist, which he only does when upset, like when Cap got pinned down in the middle of a civil war over the silliest of reasons.

"They're dead," he replies shortly, and the insipid bimbo makes a sympathetic face with some insensitive crack about the field being wide open. The interview ends pretty quickly after that.

Thinking hard, Darcy tracks down a sample of Bucky's handwriting from an archived letter to his sister, surreptitiously compares it to her hip. It's hard to tell from this angle, but it looks like it's a match. But why would he think her dead? What did she say to him?

For a moment she’s back in that cell, hearing her words. Voice rusty and raw, she'd only gotten a single word out in reply... Oh. Yeah, she can see the problem.

Darcy sets aside her glass and digs through her bag for a pen and the notepad she purloined from Holiday Inn. She scribbles through half the pad before settling on

_Dear Bucky,_

_a) I think you're my soulmate, and_ _b) I'm not dead, though I can understand the confusion_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Wait_

_PS none of it was your fault_

She stuffs it into an envelope and mails it straight from the airport, then spends the whole flight worrying, especially when she realises she left no return address. She blames the free booze. How was she supposed to make good decisions with them topping her up every time her glass got empty?

* * *

Bucky's pummeling a punching bag and wondering if he should apologise to Darcy for his abrupt exit when Steve brings the letter in. He's taken upon himself the job of skimming and sorting Bucky's mail to weed out the hate and the groupies; not much makes it to Bucky's hands. There were a few letters from the 107th or their children, and one intrepid 10th Grader who wanted an interview. The poorly masked hope Steve's face has him expecting another of the latter.

"It came in two days ago," Steve explains, handing over a single sheet of paper.

Bucky reads the letter, first confused, then suspicious. "Why didn't they leave a name, an address?"

Steve jams his hands into his pockets. "Dunno. It's postmarked from New York, and we tracked it to the airport. They could be from anywhere. Do you think-?"

Bucky shakes his head. "Can't be. Why didn't they say anything earlier?"

"That interview only came out about a week ago," Steve points out and Bucky's fist clenches at the memory. That woman had actually come on to him after the cameras stopped rolling. She hadn’t wanted to know him; her questions had been designed to elicit scandal, which he’d certainly given her. Even Steve hadn’t been sure until he’d said it - except it seems he was wrong.

“Someone must’ve seen it, copied the writing,” he mutters, hope he hadn’t even realised was rising now fading away under the weight of reality.

Steve shakes his head. “When would they have had the chance? Shouldn’t we at least consider the possibility that this is real?” His face drops. “Unless you’re sure they’re dead…?”

“There were so many,” Bucky says. “So many who begged, who pleaded. They’re all dead.”

“But it’s possible your soulmate is alive?” Steve presses.

Bucky looks again at the letter in his hand, shakes his head. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter. They obviously wanted to stay anonymous. Not that I blame them, stuck with me as a soulmate.”

He doesn’t want a soulmate, has been _fine_ on his own for almost a century now. He can only be bad news for someone, anyone, soulmate or not. A girl with long brown hair and a smart mouth flashes before him, and he finds himself inexplicably disappointed.

Punching bag forgotten, he leaves the gym, still holding the letter, and that’s the end of it.

Until the second letter arrives.

_Dear Bucky,_

_First of all, sorry for not leaving a name. Or an address. Or an email. Or my Twitter handle but that’s too embarrassing. Honestly, I’m kinda nervous because you probably don’t remember our meeting and I have no way of proving I’m for real from here. I promise I’m not a tag chaser, I just wanted to let you know I’m alive. You helped me out of a pretty sticky situation so the least I can do is let you know I’m not dead._

_Second, if you want to keep on blaming yourself for everything, you can go ahead and ignore this (BUT YOU’RE WRONG). If you’re still reading, IT WASN’T YOUR FAULT. It wasn’t your choice and it’s not on you. Except that haircut. Seriously, visit a hairdresser. I’m sure Stark has a few on retainer. Have you seen that goatee?_

_Anyway, do the women of the world a favor: shave and a haircut._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Wait_

“It came from New Zealand,” Steve explains. “But it looks like the same handwriting.”

Bucky reads through the letter again. “What’s a Twitter handle?”

“What, Foster’s assistant hasn’t introduced you to Twitter yet? I thought she was dragging you into this century.” At Bucky’s unimpressed glare, Steve holds up a hand. “Fine, fine. It’s a website where people can share their thoughts and follow other people to hear what they think. Stark probably set one up for you already.”

They check: Bucky indeed already has a Twitter, and it has half a million followers despite never posting anything. He figures his soulmate must be one of them, and that gets him to thinking.

* * *

After Darcy’s first letter was sent and presumably arrived with nary a ripple, she expected her second to have a similar non-effect. The lack of an Antarctic postal service had her sending it with one of the researchers who was going back to Christchurch to oversee the transport of some new equipment, and so she put it from her mind and returned to the lab.

One enterprising engineer has set up a WiFi hotspot at prices that are more teeth-gritting than agonising, so every couple of days, Darcy treats herself to a bit of social media time. Wandering onto Twitter, she sees the trending hashtag #WinterisHOT. Curious, she clicks on it, releasing a flood of tweets gushing about …Bucky?

It turns out he’s finally used his Twitter account. His very first Tweet is a before and after photo at the hairdresser’s. He’s finally clean shaven and his hair just brushes his collar. Darcy has to agree. Winter is _very_ hot.

The caption, when she reads it, is … illuminating.

> _@BuckyBarnes: Someone told me to get a shave and a haircut_

She scrolls up to his second tweet as she considers his first. This time, there’s no picture.

> _@BuckyBarners: Could someone message me the password?_

Hold on. If ‘someone’ was her in the first one, could it be her in the second? Was this his attempt at getting in touch?

Well, she’s certainly not DMing him from her normal Twitter. She’s waxed poetic about Steve’s butt a few too many times for that to turn out well. Quickly, she sets up another account with her throwaway email address and sends a private message.

A reply is not forthcoming, which makes sense given time zones, so she logs off the WiFi and hopes she did the right thing.

* * *

Apparently asking for passwords online is not the done thing. Bucky is deluged with messages, replies, and mentions. Most can be discarded at first glance but the rest must be sifted through, and he wants to do this himself. Some try to be helpful, others hopeful. There’s an awful lot of ‘password123’ in his inbox which must be some kind of group joke.  He’s giving it up as a lost cause when one of the later messages catches his eye.

> apparentlysomeone: Wait
> 
> apparentlysomeone: I hope that was the “password” you were thinking of
> 
> apparentlysomeone: [view attached photo]

Bucky opens the photo. It is definitely his writing, words he doesn’t remember saying. They seem more helpful than murderous, which is unexpected. He agonises over how to reply, settles on the most pressing question.

The next time she splurges on WiFi, there’s a message waiting for her.

> BuckyBarnes: why the secrecy?
> 
> apparentlysomeone: I was embarrassed
> 
> apparentlysomeone: Also drunk
> 
> apparentlysomeone: I didn’t know if you would believe me and I don’t know if you want to know me
> 
> apparentlysomeone: Anonymous seemed like a good idea
> 
> apparentlysomeone: Just know I’m not dead

It’s a few weeks until a reply comes. He’s taken to carrying his StarkPhone with him near-constantly, which Stark though was prime mockery fodder. 

> BuckyBarnes: why go to the trouble?
> 
> apparentlysomeone: (e_e) <\- that’s me rolling my eyes, by the way
> 
> apparentlysomeone: You’re a hero
> 
> apparentlysomeone: And a good man
> 
> apparentlysomeone: And my soulmate

Somehow, the next time she logs on, he’s online as well, for his reply comes quickly 

> BuckyBarnes: you don’t know me
> 
> apparentlysomeone: There’s this fascinating invention called the internet, you might have heard of it?
> 
> apparentlysomeone: I know you befriended Steve Rogers when he was a sickly shrimp
> 
> apparentlysomeone:: All of the 107th regiment had very nice things to say about you
> 
> apparentlysomeone: You went through 70 years of absolute hell and came out the other side
> 
> apparentlysomeone: And from all accounts, even during those 70 years you were good enough to limit innocent casualties
> 
> apparentlysomeone: Like, yeah, you got the job done, but you didn’t have a choice about that
> 
> apparentlysomeone: If you don’t think you’re worth it, you don’t know yourself very well

She can see him start to reply a few times, but nothing appears before her time is up.

* * *

Project complete and ready for something, anything that isn't snow or ice, Darcy and Jane find themselves back at the Avengers Complex. Bucky still hasn’t replied to her latest DMs and she’s not sure what to do now. Jane has been fully appraised of the situation and sworn to silence; she alternates between suggesting that Darcy jump him in the hallway or ignore him forever.

Darcy’s hoping for a middle ground, which is why she wanders into the cafeteria as the last stragglers clear out. He’s there, as usual, looks up as she approaches.

“You’re back.”

“Yep.” She pauses, unsure how to continue. “Didja miss me?”

“Yes,” he replies, almost in spite of himself. He looks down at his meal.

“I see you found your Twitter. The next step is Instagram, you know.”

“Yeah.”

They eat in silence for a while until their plates are mostly empty and Darcy is chasing the last pea around her plate with a fork. Bucky glances around the empty cafeteria and clears his throat. “I have a soulmate,” he announces.

Darcy sits back, blinks at his bluntness. “Oh.”

“I don’t know who it is.”

“Do you want to know?” Darcy asks, tone carefully neutral.

A slight movement of his shoulders that might be called a shrug. He can’t meet her eyes and is rubbing the back of his neck with his metal hand. She files the movement away as _nerves_. “I don’t know. Maybe. The thing is, doll, I like you. I really like you. Ain’t no soulmate going to change that.”

Darcy feels her jaw drop. When she makes no reply, he seems to shrink a little and picks up his tray to leave. “I’ll leave you alone then. Shoulda known you wouldn’t…”

One more time, then, and maybe he’ll listen. She stands too. “Wait.”

He halts, halfway between sitting and standing, hope flickering in those eyes. “Yeah?”

She goes for a light tone, isn’t sure if she hit it. “Did you know I’m kinda not really Twitter famous? I’m apparently someone.”

“You- but- what?”

Darcy perches on the table and swings her legs over. Once there, she lifts her sweater and wriggles her jeans down about an inch.

“I was scared you wouldn’t believe me,” she confesses, suddenly awkward. “I thought maybe –“

She risks a glance upwards, sees his face transformed by a shy smile.

“I’m so glad it was you,” he says, and she couldn’t agree more.


	49. Parachute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy gets kidnapped. She's getting really tired of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm doing NaNo this year - wish me luck! As such, I'm trying to get a few things out before November. This bit of fluff is based on the song Parachute by James Durbin, from the album Celebrate.

“So what’s this mission?”

Steve looks up from the holographic map of the HYDRA base. They’ve been knocking them out one by one, but this one seems to carry some sort of urgency.

“Jane Foster and her assistant Darcy Lewis were kidnapped sometime yesterday. Their personal effects were found in a dumpster behind their favourite café. With Dr Foster’s irregular schedule, their disappearance was only noted this morning.”

“How do we know that they’re here then?”

Steve grins. “Believe it or not, Darcy’s jewellery. She’s been wearing some of Stark’s new inventions, designed them herself. They removed the locket that monitored her vitals but left her earrings.”

“What do they do?”

Steve’s grin turns feral. “Tracking device, and once we’re in range, one-way radio. We’ll be able to hear everything she can hear.”

Bucky turns his attention to the map. “Seems simple enough, once we get inside.”

“I sure hope so. I don’t want to be the one to tell Thor we got his soulmate killed. The only problem is that it’s in Romania, quite close to Bucharest. Stark’s talking to their government now, but there’s a high possibility of civilian casualties. We’ll have to go in fast and quiet.”

They’re somewhere above Italy when Stark’s voice crackles through the quinjet’s intercom. “I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is that the Romanian government have no problem with us taking out a HYDRA base in their backyard, as long as we leave them alive to be tried by local authorities. The bad news is that my sensors have detected an extensive net of sensors. I-“

“Captain’s Log, Stardate whenever the hell this is, probably still 2016.”

Steve and Bucky exchange shocked looks at the female voice issuing out from the speaker. It seems they are now in range of Darcy’s earrings.

The voice continues, “It has been four meals since misters Ugly and Grumpy grabbed us off the street. Jane has been taken away for questioning for the second time. I expect the threats to my person to become reality within the next 24 hours, not that I actually have a reliable method of measuring time because _someone_ confiscated my phone, which totally sucks because I was about to beat Level 350 on Candy Crush. I-“

“Who are you talking to?” demands a rough male voice, and the listeners both stiffen.

“My soulmate, of course,” Darcy replies. “I’m a verbal processor, Grumpy. I would be taking notes on my phone, but that’s a bit difficult right now. Now go away. I try to make a point of not speaking to my kidnappers.”

“You have a soulmate?”

“Yep, and when he turns up, he’s going to _kick your ass_. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Pfah, you are still unmatched. No-one knows where you are. Continue your talking to the air.”

Unmatched, eh? He knows what that feels like, has a moment of sympathy for this unseen woman. Despite her captor’s command, she stays silent. After a couple of minutes, Tony resumes his briefing.

“As I was saying, there is a sophisticated sensor net over the base, one that is designed to pick up anything flying below 30,000 feet. I think it’s connected to missiles, too: a passenger jet went down around here last year, though that was blamed on secessionists. The entire area is a no-fly zone. The only things in the air here are the birds. I might be able to get in, but I can’t take the base on my own.”

Steve curses quietly. “The only other way in is up the mountain on foot, and that’ll take a day and a half, at least.”

“Might be our only choice.”

“Could we chute in?”

“What, a HALO jump? Possibly, but it’ll be pretty tight with that terrain. You got a death wish there, Cap?”

Just then, the speaker comes to life again. “ _Speaking of soulmates, I wish you would hurry up. I’m getting pretty tired of waiting for you.”_

Bucky’s jaw drops. “I’ll do it, Steve. Where are the parachutes?”

“You don’t have to do this, Buck. We can-“

“I can take a lot more damage that you can. I’ll chute in, disable the missiles, and Barton can land the jet on their doorstep.”

Steve’s jaw clenches at the reminder of the serum Bucky was given, but he nods anyway. “I can jump too-“

Bucky shakes his head. “More likely to be noticed. I’ll see you on the ground.”

It’s full dark when Barton makes his pass high over the base. Even in night-vision goggles, there is little to see from this altitude.

“You ready?” Steve yells over the roar of the wind.

Bucky gives him the thumbs up and steps out of the plane. He keeps his body straight, presenting as small a target as possible.

“25,000 feet,” comes Romanoff’s voice in his ear. “20,000. 15,000. Remember, you have to pull the cord as late as possible. 10,000. 5,000. 4. 3. 2. 1, now!”

He pulls the cord, spreads his body to catch as much wind resistance as possible. The parachute opens with a jerk and suddenly the trees below are speeding towards him. He’s never been very good at steering these things, but the branches provide as soft as a landing as he could hope for, Once he releases the straps, it’s a short jump to the ground.

“I’ve landed,” he mutters into his comm. “Now, where’s the missile net controls?”

* * *

Grumpy has gone for a break and returned already when Jane is returned to their cell, pale and exhausted. There is a bruise across one cheek and her hands are shaking so badly, Darcy has to feed her, though fatigue is lapping at the edges of her vision. She’s mopping up the last of the thin broth when there is a commotion outside. Grumpy is barely on his feet when a metal fist shoots into his jaw, sending him flying across the hall. A figure in black tactical gear strides into view, looks over at the two women inside the cell.

“ _I’m sorry I took so long,_ ” he says. “ _Was that enough ass-kicking for you?_ ”

Mutely, Darcy nods. With a single powerful twist, the lock on the door snaps open and Darcy helps Jane stand. They get two steps forward before Darcy’s soulmate scoops a feebly protesting Jane into his arms and leads the way out, and no, of course _,_ she’s not jealous of being held by those arms.

The exit is in sight when they are met by Captain America, who stows his shield when he sees them and grabs Jane from Darcy’s soulmate. “Had to do everything, didn’t you, Buck? You know Romanoff gets grumpy when she doesn’t get to beat people up.”

“I left her the entire barracks. That should be plenty.”

With a dull jolt of surprise, Darcy realises who her soulmate must be. Her attention split, she stumbles over her own feet and finds the floor coming up fast. In a blink, she finds herself in those arms she had just been admiring.

“You’re Bucky Barnes,” she mumbles, and his metal arm tightens around her.

“And you’re Darcy Lewis. That was quite the talk you were doing."

“Escape now, flirt later!” Cap orders as they break out into the cool night air.


	50. Lipstick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kissing is good. Cuddling is even better. Anything more? Yeah, no thanks.  
> An Ace!Darcy ficlet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. YOU GUYS. 50 CHAPTERS??? I cannot BELIEVE that I've done this and people are still reading. Whether you stumbled over me last year or last week, thank you all SO MUCH for reading and commenting on and enjoying these!  
> This chapter is based on the song Lipstick by Runaway Jane, as requested by the fabulous [fyretyger86](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fyretyger86/pseuds/fyretyger86). it's certainly not what I expected when I sat down to write it, but I think it still works. I hope you enjoy it!

Darcy slaps away a wandering hand and Allan draws back, confused.

“Darcy, what is it?”

“I’m ace, remember?”

“Yeah, but it’s just me!”

“And? I told you I was ace when we started dating and you said you were okay with it.”

“I thought once you got comfortable…” His voice trails away and she eyes him with disbelief and a growing sense of betrayal.

“That’s not how it works!”

He places his hand on her shoulder, speaks in a tone that’s somehow meant to be soothing. “Listen, Darcy, you’re a really nice girl. You’re smart and smoking hot, but you have to get over this - this problem you have.”

“Aww, Al, you’re so sweet and thoughtful, it almost makes up for your delusions of adequacy. It’s a pity you’re an asshole. Get out.”

 “Look, you’re obviously upset. Why don’t we talk about this when you’ve calmed down?”

Darcy glares at him. “I am calm. I just don’t want to sleep with you.”

“Then why would you dress like that?”

She glances down at her dress. “Like what?”

“Oh come on, Darcy! Look at yourself - you’re practically asking for it!”

Hand meets face in a resounding _thwack_ and Allan jerks away.

“You crazy cow! What is wrong with you?”

Darcy doesn’t reply, lifts a shaking hand to point at the door. Allan grabs his jacket and storms out, holding his cheek. “Good luck finding someone else who is willing to wait for you!” he yells over his shoulder and slams the door behind him.

Darcy just sits there shaking as her mascara runs down her face.

* * *

“I just thought he was the one,” she mutters.

Emily rubs her back in soothing circles. “I know, I know. We’ve all been there. But there’s plenty more fish in the sea. I know this guy in accounting-“

“Nuh-uh. No more, Ems. I’m done. They all think they can change me.”

“You have a soulmark, right? So there’s someone out there for you.”

Darcy runs her fingers over her hip. “At this rate, they’re probably platonic.”

“That wouldn’t be too bad, would it?” Jessica asks, and Darcy makes a face.

“I’m ace, Jess, not aro. I’d like to think there’s someone out there who’s the same.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll meet them soon. You never know when they might show up.”

“What, like they’re just going to fall out of the sky?” Emily wonders. “Cloudy with a chance of soulmates?”

They all crack up. Darcy might have a broken heart, but her friends are great.

Also, scarily prescient.

* * *

He doesn’t like fighting. He’s never liked it, outside of the boxing ring. These days, it’s the only thing he knows how to do, the only time when his mind and body are in accord, so when the Avengers assemble, he suits up too.

This time, the fight is on their own doorstep. Some homegrown terrorist group want to protest government surveillance by releasing killer robots around the Avengers Complex. That’s what Stark said, at least. Bucky doesn’t really worry about the specifics. His job is to hit things and not die, and happily, he does both quite well.

As a ground fighter, Bucky is paired with a flyer – usually Sam. At least he stops snarking to fight, which is more than can be said for Stark.

“On your six!’ Sam yells and Bucky turns. A giant fist catches him in the ribs, lifting him off the ground and sending him flying across the street. From the corner of his eye, he sees Sam struggling with two of the smaller flying ones and he knows not to expect any help from that quarter.

He lands on a car in a shower of glass and creaking metal. One of the women sheltering behind it screams at his sudden appearance and another woman huddles in a ball. The last grabs his arm and tugs him to his feet. ” _Are you alright?_ ” she asks, looking him over. “ _That looked painful._ ”

He coughs and finds the energy to smile. “ _Believe me, I’ve had worse. I probably should have expected meeting you like this._ ”

Her eyes go wide and she looks about to answer when something explodes nearby and they all duck behind the squashed car again.

“Stay here,” he orders. “I’ll be back.”

She nods, a dazed smile on her face, and he hears her friends squeal in excitement as he heads back into the fray.

* * *

True to his word, her soulmate reappears once the fighting is done. They’ve moved to inside a nearby pet store, helped move the animals away from the front. Darcy’s headed towards the back when Jessica’s eyes go wide.

“Is that him? If you two are gonna be platonic, I call dibs.”

Darcy spins, elbows Jess in the side. He obviously heard her, because his eyebrows shoot up. “Any reason why you think we’re platonic?”

Darcy looks around – both friends and strangers watch expectantly. Emily had filled Jessica in about the meeting once they got inside and now everyone seems interested. “Maybe not here?” she asks, and he nods. There’s a disappointed mutter from the crowd.

“I live at the Avengers Complex,” he says, and it’s her turn to nod.

“I know. I’ve seen you around.” More than a few times, in fact, enough that it got too embarrassing to introduce herself. “You’re Bucky Barnes, you won an arm-wrestle against Thor and I totes couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or delighted. I’m Darcy, by the way. I work with Jane Foster?”

He looks at her again, seems to recognise her. “In the labs, right? How have we never talked before?”

 “Um. Dunno. You have access to the private dining room, right? Wanna meet there for dinner, like at 8? We’re gonna help clean up here, and you probably have one of those briefings Thor hates.” The private dining room at the Avengers Complex is more of a restaurant, and unlike the general one, not everyone has access. Jane's dragged Darcy along to dinners there now and then; she's pretty sure Bucky was at the more recent ones, but they can't have talked.

He smiles, and her heart does a triple somersault. “It’s a date.”

* * *

She’s already seated when he arrives, looks up at him with an uncertain smile curving ruby-red lips. “Hey.”

‘You look lovely,” he tells her, and she relaxes somewhat.

“Thank you. I was gonna wear a dress, but I figured you’d probably want to see…” She gestures to her midsection and he nods, suddenly nervous.

She places her napkin on the table and stands, rolling her blouse up a few inches. It’s definitely his writing scrawled across her hip, and for a moment he wishes they’d left him his penmanship.

He realises she’s looking at him expectantly, and he glances around the empty restaurant before unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the words on his chest. She nods, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. They both sit, and study the food choices on the inbuilt monitor in an awkward silence. The food comes quickly, as befits a near-automated system, and they eat. They discuss niceties: music, weather, Stark’s latest (mostly explosive) shenanigans.

Sometime after dessert, he clears his throat. “So. Platonic?”

Darcy shifts in her seat. “I don’t know. It’s just that…” She takes a deep breath. “I’m ace.”

* * *

Bucky looks adorably confused. “I- uh- is that supposed to mean something? Because I know the word ‘ace’, but I didn’t think people used it anymore.”

“Oh. Ace is short for asexual. Basically, I don’t want to have sex. Ever. With anyone.” Having to explain it takes a bit of force from her revelation, that’s for sure.

 “So you don’t want a romantic soulmate? You just want to be platonic?”

Is she imagining it, or does he look disappointed? “No, that’s not it. I’m fine with romance, and kissing, and cuddling – that’s a whole other thing. It’s just sex that I’m not interested in. I’m a romantic ace.”

“That’s a thing?”

She nods, not sure what else to add.

He sits back. “Huh. Yeah, okay.”

“Really? Because the last guy I dated seemed to think I’d change my mind. Spoiler alert: not going to happen, and if you think it will then we’re better off staying as friends.”

Bucky leans forward. “I’m going to level with you, doll. Sex is not something I’m interested in either. Maybe it’s a new thing – I don’t know. But I do know I don’t wanna be platonic with you.”

“Oh.” At that declaration, coherency deserts her.

A slow smile spreads across his face. “You say you don’t have a problem with kissing, though?”

She shakes her head, lips slightly parted, and he seems to take this as an invitation. Dropping his cutlery with a clatter, he comes around the table to cradle her face in his hands.

“I’m going to mess up that pretty lipstick you have,” he murmurs, and she can’t bring herself to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMOORTANT: According to the Archive, I started these stories on the 26th of November last year. I'm trying my hand at NaNo for the first time, so I won't be updating any of my other WIPs, but I think we can get to 52 chapters before The Beat of Our Hearts turns one, right?  
> Now, I'm gonna make those two readers choice! So tell me:  
> 1) what's been your favourite chapter(s) and  
> 2) what chapter would you like me to extend?  
> I'm only going to do two and some chapters are earmarked for future spinning off, so no guarantees.  
> Once again, THANK YOU! I couldn't have done it without you


	51. Tip Toes (part two to Personality)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very fluffy yarn about yarn. And Darcy. And the Avengers. Especially Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am 75% of the way through NaNo and have the first of my readers' choice follow-up chapters! This is a sequel to chapter 43 [Personality](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5289413/chapters/17827285) and is based on the song Tip Toes by Jayme Dee from the EP Broken Record

“Steve, you’re pulling too tight. That’s why you’re having trouble finding where to insert your hook. Loosen up a little, and it should get easier.”

“Fantastic advice for life as well as knitting,” Bucky drawls, adjusting his row counter. “When are you going to ask the pretty doctor out?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve splutters, nearly losing his loop in the process.

“Yeah you do,” Sam says, eyes never leaving the pair of socks on his circular needles. “Darce, can I get some help over here?”

“I can try, but you know I’m better at crochet. You’d be better off asking Clint, he’s getting really good.”

“No thanks,” Sam scoffs. “I’m not asking Legolas for help.”

“Hey Darce, what do you think?” Bucky asks, holding the shawl up for inspection.

“Oi, tinman, she’s helping me!” Sam protests.

“Yeah, but she’s my fiancée.”

“Dammit,” Sam mutters as Darcy goes over to Bucky. “Stupid soulmates.”

“I’ll come over to you afterwards,” she tells Sam absently, leaning over Bucky’s shoulder to inspect his work. “And I’m telling Sharon you think she’s stupid.”

“Don’t do that! She’ll stop me coming to your little yarn club and then I can’t get my relaxation time!”

“Birdbrain, if you’re choosing knitting over your soulmate, something is seriously wrong.”

“I’m sure she’d like it if she tried it, but she’s always so busy.”

“Yeah, but that’s the life of a nurse,” Darcy reminds him. “It’s better than Nat. When I asked her, she just lifted an eyebrow and told me she already knew 42 ways to kill a man with knitting needles and so didn’t need the practice.”

Bucky’s phone sounds an alarm. He puts his project down and gets to his feet as Sam and Steve do the same. “Time to go, doll,” Bucky says, and Darcy pouts.

“A kiss for good luck?”

She loops her arms around his neck to bring his face closer to hers and is so short, she still has to be almost en pointe to reach. Steve looks away to give them some privacy, nudges Sam to do the same.

“I’ll be right here, waiting for you,” Darcy tells Bucky when they break apart, finger combing her mussed hair into a semblance of order. “Well, I have some errands to run, but then I’ll be here. Hurry back soon.”

* * *

When he does, it’s already late. He finds Darcy awake and crocheting in bed. There’s a little crease between her eyebrows as she studies the pattern in front of her, and he is struck once again by just how beautiful she is.

“Oh, you’re back!” Darcy beams. “How was it?”

“It was okay,” he tells her. “What are you making?” With her legs curled and the blankets puddled around her waist he can’t quite make out her new project.

Darcy folds her hands in her lap, over whatever it is she’s making. “Um. First, I have some news.”

“There was a sale at A Good Yarn and you filled my half of the wardrobe this time?”

“Not exactly…” Darcy cups her project in her hands and lifts it up to him. It’s not quite finished, but it’s definitely a tiny bootie in delicate grey wool.

It takes a moment, and his eyes drop to her stomach, still distorted by the blankets. “Are you sure?”

She lobs a ball of yarn at him – one not connected to the bootie. “Of course I’m sure! I took three tests when you were gone!” Her face falls. “Are you okay with this? Because I’ve already picked out a colour scheme for the nursery.”

Very carefully, he takes the bootie and attached wool from her, places them on the bedside table where they won’t get knocked or unravelled. He draws her close, looks into her worried eyes, lets the joy he feels bubbling inside him spill out. “Doll, I am ecstatic.”

Darcy smiles back, and he is very, very glad he let Sam talk him into the yarn store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your last chance to request a particular chapter for my anniversary chapter! (52 chapters in a year woo!) If you haven't told me what you which chapter(s) you want a follow-up to, let me know in the comments!
> 
> Much love,  
> kiwigirl xx


	52. Superhero (part 2 of deaf!Darcy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Chapter 52, done and dusted! This is a sequel to [chapter 16](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5289413/chapters/12661772) as some of you requested. I know lots of you wanted a follow-up to Chapter 19, but I don't think I can do it justice in a single chapter so it's going to get a full-length story instead. This chapter is based on the song Superhero by Luke Conard and Landon Austin, from the album 302 Views.

Bucky slows down and manoeuvres the car up the long driveway. “Darcy,” he said, pausing to let her hearing aids kick in. “I think we’re here.”

Darcy looks up from her tablet and a smile breaks across her face as she sees the large house ahead. “Finally! Just park next to auntie Lydia – the blue car.”

“We going to explain why we’re late?”

Darcy shakes her head, face solemn though her eyes are dancing. “Nope. They’d only worry, and it was only a _little_ alien incursion.”

“You are distressingly blasé about this sometimes, you know?” Bucky sighs, as he shifts the car into park. With his hands free, he shifts to sign. _What have you told them about me?_

“Just that you’re my soulmate, you live at the Tower, and you’ve taken me to Disneyland so you’ll already be in my sisters’ good books. I didn’t say anything about the arm, but it looks like Tony’s camouflage coating is holding up pretty well.”

_What did you tell them I do?_

“Nothing yet, though I’m sure you’ll get asked.” Darcy furrows her brow. “What _do_ you do? Can we call it superhero-ing? Is that a thing?”

 _I’m not a superhero_ he signs, with emphatic gestures.

Darcy shifts, setting her tablet down. _No, you just go out and help every time the Avengers go on a mission. Just because you’re not in the stock team photo doesn’t mean you’re not one of them._

_I’m support staff. I do recon with Barton, and comms. That doesn’t make me a hero._

Darcy smirks and pats his hand. “You keep telling yourself that, sweetie.”

_Are you going to turn your hearing aids on properly?_

She sighs. “I suppose I have to, right?” At his nod, she fiddles with them, then undoes her seatbelt. “Right. Let’s do this!”

* * *

He won’t let her take the bags so she retrieves the chocolate cream pie from the back and leads the way up to the front door. She doesn’t bother to knock and walks right into a hug.

“Darcy!” one of her sisters squeals right beside her ear, before dashing away yelling, “Mooom! Darcy’s here!

They make it halfway down the corridor before Liz Lewis bustles in, just as short as Darcy, her features softer and suffused with joy. “You made it! Let me take this – here, Mary, put this in the fridge. Ellie, go find your brothers to help with their bags. Now, you must be James.”

Instead of shaking the proffered hand, Bucky raises it to his lips with a smile. “That’s me. You must be Darcy’s older sister.”

Liz glances at her eldest daughter, lips quirking. “Oh, he’s a charmer, isn’t he?” Patting Bucky on the cheek, she returns to the kitchen to join her own sisters in the annual debate over the proper way to baste a turkey.

As she passes her, Mary, her hands now free of pie, signs _really good looking too_ to her sister with a congratulatory grin. 

Darcy laughs. “Yes he is, Mary, and he speaks sign as well, so be nice. Hon, this is Mary, and just coming down the stairs is Elinor.”

“Good to finally meet you,” Bucky says, looking between them. “I’ve heard a lot about you. So who’s older?”

Mary pouts, gesturing at her twin. “She is. By twelve minutes.”

A young man follows Ellie down the stairs, looks Bucky up and down appraisingly as Darcy introduces him as her brother Will. “Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking Bucky’s hand. “You treating my sister right?”

“I certainly try to,” Bucky answers, as Darcy punches her brother in the shoulder.

“Boys,” she huffs, sharing an eyeroll with Mary. “Where’s Ben?”

“Still on the computer,” Ellie reports. “He says he has a report due and will come down when he’s done."

“I am _so_ not looking forward to college,” Mary says, making a face. "High school is bad enough."

“You don’t have to go, but I’m pretty sure you’ll love it."

Mary doesn't look convinced.

"At least we only have one more year of high school to go,” Ellie says.

"I enjoyed college," Will adds.

"Yeah, but you're a nerd," Mary shoots back. "So is Darcy, even if she hides it pretty well. You should know that about her."

“I already do," Bucky says, looking around. "Where’s your father? I should probably meet him."

“I think he’s in the lounge,” Ellie says. "He gave up on the game of Marco Polo in the backyard."

Darcy grabs Bucky’s hand and tows him through a door on the left. An older version of Will is reading the paper, looks up when Darcy tugs on his current page.

 _Papa, this is James_ , Darcy signs.

"Took you long enough," he grunts. "Your mother was expecting you yesterday."

Bucky merely shrugs.  _There was a bit of alien trouble in New York_ he signs, and Mr Lewis’s face turns from scepticism to wary respect.

"The traffic must have been terrible," he offers.

Bucky nods. _It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir._ “Can we have a moment?” he asks Darcy, and she wrinkles her nose at him.

“Fine. I’ll go help mom.”

* * *

Two steps into the kitchen she is ambushed by her sisters.

“You are so lucky!” Mary squeals. “Is he really your soulmate? That is so romantic!”

“He looks really familiar,” Ellie says. “Is he-“

“Girls, don’t just stand there," Liz interrupts. "Ellie, check the yams are cooked. Mary, wash this salad in the other sink and Darcy, dear, can you do the potatoes?”

Darcy takes the offered bowl and sets it down on a nearby bench as her aunts close in.

“Your mother says you met your soulmate-“

“What does he do for a living-“

“Soulmates don’t always work out, though-“

She fields the questions as best as she could, wishing she could turn off her hearing aids again without being rude. He’s in communications, she tells them, and yes, she’s still working with Jane and no, it’s not a dead end job, she already been published. Just as she reaches breaking point, Bucky pokes his head in.

“So sorry to bother you ladies, but may I borrow Darcy for a while?”

The aunts all titter and giggle at his charm and Darcy takes the opportunity to shove the potatoes in aunt Cathy’s direction and make her escape.

“You looked like you needed a rescue.”

Darcy nods, fervently. “Thank you.”

“Is there somewhere we can be alone for a while?”

“In this house? Not really. But if you’re okay with a bit of an adventure…?” She leads him outside and around the back, skirting the edges of the yard where some of the cousins are playing, scrambling down a bank and over a few downed trees to a sunny clearing. A river runs along the side, collects in a pool that was perfect for swimming a few months ago, though it would be freezing right now. She flops down into the grass with a sigh. When Bucky sits, he moves her head into his lap and combs his free hand through her hair as their fingers intertwine.

“This is nice,” she hums, eyes drifting shut. “Sorry about my family. They can be kinda intense.”

“I quite like them,” he says, hands stilling. “I’m glad I got to meet them.”

Darcy shifts to look up at him. “That’s ominous.”

Bucky chuckles. “Not really. Well, I hope not.  There was something I wanted to talk to you about, though.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m no hero, Darce. I can’t fly-“

“That’s why we steal Tony’s planes,” Darcy quips, and he places a finger against her lips.

“Hush, I’m trying to say something.”

She nods, mimes zipping her lips and locking them.

“Like I said, I can’t fly. I don’t have super speed, or a secret identity I actually like. I’ll never be a superhero. But if you need me, I’ll be there.”

“I’ll always need you,” Darcy bursts out, and Bucky grins.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” He levers her off his lap and she sits up in surprise as he pulls a little box from his pocket. It’s a good thing ASL has a one-handed variant.

_I love you, Darcy, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?_

Darcy nods, eyes filling with tears, as he slips the ring onto her finger. It's a cluster of seed pearls around a topaz, fits her perfectly. He kisses both of her palms before moving up to capture her lips with his own.

“Darcyyyy! Jaaames! Mom says it’s time to eat!” Mary yells from the direction of the house, and they break apart, breathing heavily.

Bucky smiles wryly. _Time to go tell your folks._

_And eat. Don’t forget the eating. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried my mom’s sweet potato pie._

_I can’t wait._

Hand in hand, they make their way back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't believe how far I've come in a year - 52 chapters and almost 65,000 words! I'm thankful for all of you and your encouragement and your excitement and your requests. I'm not going to stop writing WinterShock, but I'll be doing less of these ficlets while I try and get some of the longer stories done. I also have 8k left to win NaNo, so I've gotta buckle down and get that done too! I'll see y'all later :)  
> xx  
> kiwigirl


	53. Humbug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky hates Christmas shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally marketed as a continuation of [Lipstick](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5289413/chapters/19312678), but I can't say it's proper representation, so I took that off (though it can still be read as such). Mostly it's just Christmas fluff and as usual, it took twice as long for three times the expected word count. I hope you enjoy it!  
> It's based on the song Humbug by Owl City, which can actually be downloaded for free [here](http://owlcitymusic.com) if you're interested.

“Bucky, look outside, it’s snowing!”

Light streams in from between the curtains that Darcy drew on her way in, revealing fluffy flakes floating past the window. Bucky buries his head back under the nearest pillow. “I don’t like the cold, Darce, you know that.”

Darcy laughs, tugging the pillow away from him. “Yes, but you know what snow means? Snow means winter, which means Christmas, which means presents! I should go get dressed; maybe Ems will be free to go shopping with me! I wonder if she’s seen the snow yet?”

As she dashes out again, Bucky drops back to the bed with a groan. Presents. What the hell is he supposed to buy Darcy?

* * *

“Flowers?” Steve offers, shrugging helplessly.

“Hell, no,” Sam says. “Flowers are for dates and when you’ve screwed up. If you fail at this, that’s when you get the flowers. Buy her something pretty instead. Jewellery, maybe?”

“She doesn’t like wearing jewellery, says it’s distracting.”

“Maybe if it came from you?”

“If I can only convince her into wearing one piece of jewellery from me, it’s going to be a ring. But… we’re not there yet. She still thinks I’m going to give up on her like her last three boyfriends.”

“You’re her soulmate,” Steve points out. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

It’s Bucky’s turn to shrug. “I hope it does.”

* * *

Steve has a scheduled Christmas visit to a children’s hospital, so Sam accompanies Bucky to the nearest department store. Three steps in and already Bucky wants to get out. The crowds surge around them and tinny carols blare through the speakers. Grimly, he sets his jaw and pushes through the mass of people, Sam following in his wake.

Sam steers him away from the clothes (“women’s clothes are sized by the darkest of magic, Barnes, don’t even go there”) and towards the accessories. Bucky considers and rejects the hats, blanches when he checks inside a promising handbag to find the price.

“I can’t buy that! It woulda fed my entire family.”

“I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you gotta stop thinking about prices like that. The Depression was a long time ago.”

Bucky watches a woman snatch up the discarded handbag, adding it to a basket with three others already inside. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Idly, he flicks through a rack of scarves beside them, pulls one out as it catches his eye. “What do you think?”

Sam squints at it. “It’s pretty bright. Does she wear a lot of yellow?”

“Nah. But she does have a lot of scarves. Maybe too many.” Thinking about it, he replaces the canary yellow scarf back on the rack and wanders down the row.

“I could get her a backpack and something to put inside it,” he says, holding one up. “That would be useful, right?”

“Don’t do it,” advises a woman as she passes. “Christmas is not a time for ‘useful’, trust me.”

“She’s right,” Sam says, staring at the woman now flicking through the rack of scarves they just left. “Unless you’re planning on going camping-“ Bucky snorts at the thought of Darcy willingly spending the night somewhere without an indoor shower “-yeah, I thought not. Unless you are buying for a school kid or someone who likes hiking, backpacks are off the table.”

“This is hopeless,” Bucky grumbles, letting the backpack fall back into its bin. “How do people do this?”

“Maybe we should start with the wrapping paper while you brainstorm ideas,” Sam suggests.

While it doesn’t take long to choose the wrapping paper – cartoon kittens in Santa hats – they circle the store several times more with no success, until Bucky calls a halt for the day. And the week. In fact, he’s perfectly happy to avoid shopping for the rest of the year – but he still doesn’t have a gift for Darcy.

* * *

“What do you do?” he demands of Sam, once they return to the Avengers Complex.

“My sister gives me a list of what to get the munchkins, and I order them on Amazon and get them shipped over to her work. For the adults, I go for gift cards, but that ain’t going to work for Darcy. If they have a hobby, I might get them something for that. My grandpa gets fishing gear from the whole family these days.”

“Why won’t gift cards work?” Bucky wonders and Sam gives him a flat stare.

“Are you serious? They are the least romantic thing ever, and your girl will want romance. She got a hobby? “

“What, apart from looking after scientists and pulling people out of trouble? She likes to bake.”

“And you can’t give her anything for that or it just looks like you’re hinting.”

“Besides, she just raids the kitchen for ingredients and Stark’s credit cards keep those well-stocked.”

“What about a new skill? How about a bike? Or music? You could get an instrument for her to learn.”

Bucky cradles his head in despair. All these ideas, and none of them sounded right. “Or how bout I jump out the window? That sounds easier.”

Sam’s expression grows mock-serious. “I thought your window-jumping days were behind you. Are you talking to someone about this?”

“Yeah, you. You were a counsellor at the VA, weren’t you?”

“As a counsellor, I’m advising you against the self-defenestration. As your friend” –his smile grows wicked- “I’d like to see you try. Stark designed these windows to withstand the Hulk and even if you do get though, we’re only on the fifth floor here. You won’t hurt yourself, though you might make a nice imprint, singing joy to the world face down in the snow.”

“You are no help,” Bucky complains, as Sam laughs.

Steve drops onto the couch across from them with a sigh of relief. Though he’s still in his suit, his cowl is off and snowflakes are melting in his hair. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Bucky mutters.

“I could use a laugh,” Steve admits. “All those poor kids, sick and stuck in hospital.”

“Remind you of yourself?” Bucky teases. “Betcha none of them had the complement you did.”

“That bad, huh?” Sam asks, still wheezing with laughter, and Bucky nods.

“I’m constantly surprised the punk made it through to adulthood.”

“I wasn’t that bad!” Steve protests.

Bucky just snorts, glad to have distracted his friend.

“So what was so funny, before?” Steve asks again, and this time Sam answers.

“Barnes is still trying to find something to give Darcy for Christmas and was just considering jumping out the window as an alternative.”

“I thought the windows were Hulk-proof?”

Sam just starts laughing again and Steve leans forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. “Well, what does she want?”

Bucky flashes back to Darcy dancing around the kitchen, singing along to the radio as her latest creation browned in the oven. “It’s a classic,” she informed him seriously, before grabbing his hands to make him dance with her. He hadn’t tried very hard to resist.

He relays the song to his friends and Sam grins in recognition. “That’s no help though. I’ll wrap myself in paper and sit under the tree, how about that?”

Inspiration strikes, and he sits bolt upright. “No, I have a better idea. I just need to talk to her friends…”

Sam and Steve look at each other as he rushes out, and shrug in unison. “You have any idea what he’s on about?”

“Nope.”

* * *

Darcy wanders out of her room Christmas morning and into her lounge. Bucky had suggested moving in together a few months ago, but she isn’t giving up her apartment that easily. If things go sour, she wants to have somewhere to go. He still gave her biometric access to his apartment, though. His couch is _way_ better for movie nights.

Her dinky little Christmas tree is the same one she had in college; only some of the decorations are from Tiffany’s, thanks to Tony’s extravagance. The solar-powered lights twinkle through the branches as she passes by. Noticing something odd, she halts, backtracks to stand beside it. There’s a package there that _definitely_ wasn’t there last night, and the handwriting on it matches that on her hip.

Pulling it out, she finds it’s several packages, individually wrapped in the _cutest_ paper and tied together. The first turns out to be a book on Soulmates: Theories and Stories, a bookmark at the beginning of a chapter on asexuality. The second is a new iPod, already loaded with one playlist titled _for Darcy_. The third is a picture frame filled with photos of her and Bucky, and for the first time, she sees how he looks at her. Like something... precious. Slightly unsettled, she goes and starts a pot of coffee, the familiar movements calming.

When she finally gets to the fourth and final present, it’s a suspiciously sized box that she doesn’t want to open. Whatever she might be feeling for Bucky (and she’s certainly feeling something), it’s not big enough for that. Not yet.

Undecided, she smoothes out the wrapping paper and realises he’s written on it.

_Dear Darcy,_

_I will warn you, I’m no good at gifts. Don’t panic, it’s not a ring. I know it’s not the time for that. It’s a representation of my heart because it –and all of me, to be honest – belong to you, forever and always. I’m a bit damaged, too, so be gentle._

_I love you,_

_Bucky_

Now curious, she opens the box. It’s a small blown glass paperweight shaped like a heart. Turning it over, she finds a crack down one side, but it doesn’t seem to affect the glass as a whole.

There’s a knock at her front door and she shuts the box with a snap and puts it down beside the other gifts. Her soulmate stands at the door, looks past her to the shredded wrapping paper littering the ground.

“Aw, you opened them already,” he says, but she can tell he’s nervous from his absolute stillness. Deciding not to keep him in suspense, she throws her arms around his neck.

“I loved it,” she tells him. “And I love you.”

A smile splits across his face and he looks up. Someone has attached mistletoe to her doorframe, and she’s pretty sure it wasn’t her.

“Put it up when I dropped your present off,” he admits, as he bends his face towards hers.


	54. Today was a Fairytale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Buchanan Barnes was born on March 10, 1917.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was panic-written when I realised it was Bucky's 100th birthday _today_. It is set in a universe where Civil War just didn't happen, okay?  
>  This chapter is based on the song Today was a Fairytale by Taylor Swift, from the movie Valentine's Day.

Something very strange is going on.

Bucky finds himself restless at the beginning of March, every March. There’s a prickling sense of expectancy that subsides as the month goes on. Even now, almost three years after the collapse of SHIELD, he can’t remember why.

He wandered back to New York about eight months ago, scaring the hell out of Tony Stark by turning up in his lobby unannounced. The billionaire had shuffled him off to Steve and the Avengers Complex upstate and he’s been here ever since, hiding from the world and avoiding everybody.

Well, not _everybody_. Steve won’t leave him alone and Sam follows Steve’s lead to a scary degree (someday, he’s going to have to haul _both_ of them out of a HYDRA base by the ears, see if he doesn’t). Clint’s okay, though. He knows how to keep his mouth shut and has a wicked sense for the best pranks to play. Nobody ever suspects the quiet ones except Natalia, and they’ve learnt not to cross her months ago.

Comfortable, well-fed, and protected, it’s still a shock when the familiar restlessness nudges at his consciousness. Today is the worst day so far. Unwilling to burden the others with what must be leftover paranoia, he roams the complex, careful not to be seen.

As per usual, he bypasses the labs and their too-shiny interiors in favour of the other areas. Whatever monstrosities they are brewing there, he doesn’t want to know.

The training hall is in use, and as much as he enjoys seeing Natalia kick Sam’s ass across the room, he moves on quickly. The 24-hour cafeteria is quieter than usual so he grabs some food and sits alone to eat it. The scientists and support staff know better than to disturb him, though he would swear the staring and whispering is more than usual. In recent months it had died down, to be replaced with cautious nods and greetings, but today it seems to be back with a vengeance.

He returns his dishes to the scullery and goes back to his rounds. Most of the social areas are deserted at this time of day, though there are a group of women who have commandeered the secondary kitchen that is attached to the common room. He can’t quite see what they are making, but the alluring smell has him skirting closer until one looks up and spots him.

Her mouth drops open. “You can’t be here,” she tells him, drawing the attention of her friends. There’s a chorus of surprise at his appearance and a thread of worry, though that may be the paranoia talking.

One of them, a pretty brunette with a smear of flour across her forehead and strands of hair escaping her braid, appears to be in charge. For some reason, his heart starts hammering in his chest as she frowns. “Get him out of here,” she orders, and the one who noticed him grabs a tea towel, wiping off her hands and coming around the counter to herd him to the elevator.

Pure bewilderment robs him of the will to resist, even though he rarely uses such a mundane method of transportation as the elevator and none of them come up past his collarbone. “You can come back…” she raises her voice towards her friends. “Dee, what time did we decide on?”

Their leader glances over, lips pursed in thought. “Six pm, Ems?”

Ems nods. “Come back at six,” she orders.

He puzzles over the encounter as he wanders past the Olympic-sized pool and though the ballet studio. Steve didn’t mention anything happening today, yet he is obviously expected to show up. Such is his distraction as he re-enters his rooms, he doesn’t notice the robot until it is too late.

There is a soft _shhh_ and he is suddenly surrounded by clouds of purple. Raising his arms in instinctive self-defense, he realises it is no gas — his hand is covered in tiny flecks of shiny purple plastic. Already, he can feel his arm slowing down as the stuff finds every crevice and gap between plates. Efforts to just brush it off just leave it stuck to his other hand, with more spiralling down to take the place of those he managed to displace.

He glares at the robot. “Tell Tony he’s dead.”

The robot chitters in response and rolls away through his still-open door, leaving a trail of purple behind it. Shutting his door only causes it to billow up again and he swears under his breath. He knows what he’ll be doing until 6 pm.

* * *

Three roombas, two showers, and far too long with a toothpick later, he heads down to the common room. He steps out of the elevator and blinks. There are balloons, and streamers, and _people_. Tony is here, looking far too pleased with himself, as are Steve and Sam and Clint and Natalia. Even Thor is present, and Bucky hadn’t even known he was back on Earth. There are people he recognises from his trips around the Complex, all looking at him with anticipation as an expectant hush falls.

Steve detaches himself from the group to come towards him, grinning broadly. “Happy 100th Birthday, Buck,” he says, and _of course_ that’s what it is. One by one, the others come to wish him a Happy Birthday. He is led to the centre of the room, where a veritable feast is laid out. The lights dim and the guests start singing as a cake approaches, carried by three women, 100 candles burning merrily away.

The guests clap and cheer as the song ends and he blows out the candles, thankful for his expanded lung capacity. One of the women hands him a knife with a cheerful “ _Happy Birthday_ " as her companions begin removing the candles.

He makes a slice and hands the knife back to her, blinking as the lights come up again. It is the brunette from before, though she has changed into a dress and her hair curls around her face in loose waves. “ _You’re the pretty girl from before_ ,” he says without thinking, and her eyes widen.

She slips an arm through his with a smile, smoothes his dark grey t-shirt. “I looked like a mess, but you’re very sweet to say so. I’m Darcy, and - is that _glitter_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus: "Tony, where do you even _find_ 100 lbs of glitter!?"
> 
> I found art of Birthday Bucky [here](http://lenadraws.tumblr.com/post/158222845370/happy-100th-to-caps-bff-bucky-barnes). It's actually perfect!


	55. Ladies' Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are cordially invited to the Avengers' Charity Auction. Come bid on a date with Tony Stark, the Black Widow, or even their newest member, Bucky Barnes! All proceeds to the Maria Stark Foundation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who has two thumbs and is on exam break? THIS GAL  
> This one is based on the song Ladies' Choice, my favourite scene from my favourite movie ever, Hairspray.

Even Darcy knew about Bucky's stalker, and she's never even met the guy. She's down in the mail room, flirting with the clerk as they sort the day's mail. Jane's stuff is already tucked under her arm: an assortment of journals, offers, and the odd letter. Lee has already weeded out any hate mail, for which Darcy is grateful. Jane's been called a crack pot quite enough, thank you very much.

A pink envelope catches her eye as Lee puts it straight into the spam pile. “What's that?”

Lee sighs. “Just Barnes’ stalker.”

“His what now?”

“His stalker - what, you haven't heard? I thought it was all over the complex by now.”

“No, I - does he know who it is?”

“Yeah, it's the mayor's daughter. Seems like she's got a bit of a crush. It's never threatening or explicit, it just makes the guy uncomfortable, which, fair enough. With her dad's money and power, we can't really do more than ask her to stop and weed them out when they arrive so he doesn't have to see them.”

Darcy wrinkles her nose at the expensive perfume liberally applied to the envelope. “At least it's easy to spot.”

“At least there's that,” Lee agrees.

* * *

“Whose idea was this event, anyway?” Bucky grumbles, tugging at his bow tie. All eyes swing to Steve, who shifts uncomfortably.

“The PR lady made it sound like a good idea,” he says defensively. “And it's for a good cause.”

“Indeed, I believe this night will be most enjoyable,” Thor agrees.

 “Not arguing with that,” Clint says. “But what's wrong with a good old fashioned raffle? Why’d it have to be a charity auction?”

“I did suggest it, but she said raffles were old hat. I did try to get you out of it, Buck, but as the newest member of the Avengers, she thinks you'll be a big draw. It's one date, how bad could it get?”

There is a chorus of boos from the assembled Avengers.

“You had to ask, didn't you?”

* * *

“Why are we here?” Jane asks. “You know I can't afford to buy a date with Thor.”

“No, and you get him every other night,” Darcy agrees. “I was asked to be here to keep an eye on the audience and I didn't want to turn up to one of these shindigs alone. “

“Yeah, I get that,” Jane said. “The wealth here makes my teeth hurt.”

Darcy rolls her eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“Why you? I’ve never seen you hang out with the Avengers.”

“They’re not really my crowd,” Darcy tells her honestly. “I mean, nice to look at, sure. But I’d rather admire them from afar.”

A ripple runs through the crowd as the lights dim and Pepper steps up to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming.”

Darcy tunes out as Pepper goes through the charity of the evening and how the auction will work. She already got the crash course over coffee today. Instead, she looks around the audience, eyes peeled for trouble.

She’s not entirely sure what’s she’s looking for, but the snacks are great and she stuffs another devil-on-horseback into her mouth as a date with Steve Rogers is auctioned off for some obscene amount of money. Damn, she must’ve missed Tony, but he’s smirking on the side of the stage so it must’ve been a decent amount. They go through all the Avengers one by one and Darcy starts to relax. She’s tempted to put in a bid for Bruce, maybe drive the price up a bit, but the idea of accidentally winning and having to work with him the next day? Yeah, no thanks.

Last of all is Bucky Barnes, the newest Avenger and the focus of a good 40% of the marketing for this event. The bidding starts as soon as he steps into the spotlight and Darcy takes the opportunity to gawk. Boy, does he clean up nicely. Hair just brushing his collar, a light dusting of stubble, and… a nervous stare at one particular part of the audience? Following his gaze, Darcy mutters an oath and grabs her bidding paddle.

* * *

Bucky fights the urge to pull at his collar again, pastes a smile on his face and flexes, instead. There’s a flurry of squeals from the audience and Pepper almost can’t keep up with the bidding. He looks out over the crowd, wondering which of them will end up on his arm. One paddle, in particular, is up so often, its owner barely bothers to put her arm down. She shifts, tossing her hair over one shoulder, and her face comes into focus. It’s the dame who won’t stop sending him letters; he recognises her from a photo she’d sent, one where she’d put them together into a wedding photo.

Apparently, technology can make such things commonplace, but it still makes him deeply uncomfortable.

The smile feels leaden on his face; even for charity, he’s not sure he can go through with this. The other bidders are dropping out, the gaps between bids growing longer and longer, but his salvation comes from a woman further back in the darkened room who matches every bid with one of her own. She seems familiar and that looks like Dr Foster next to her, so he’s picking her as the better option. It helps she’s a looker, too. Brown curls spill down her back and plump red lips curve in amusement as his stalker grows more and more flustered.

His stalker begins to hesitate between bids until at last, she drops her paddle on the table with a scowl. Overcome with relief, he misses Pepper’s recitation of the winning bid. From the look on Tony’s face, it must’ve been good, but he can’t bring himself to care.

* * *

Darcy drops her arm with a sigh. Jane’s eyes are huge as she leans across the table. “What was that? How do you - you can’t pay for this with monopoly money, you know?”

“Relax, Janey. I’ve got this. I have an emergency fund.” She cocks her head at the stage. “Oops, sounds like the winners are being called up. I’ll see you at the car, alright?”

At least four women stop her on her way to the stage to congratulate her on her win. There are dreamy sighs and not a few jealous glares, which she meets with a smile and a wave. By the stairs, Pepper gives her a hug and leads her on stage to officially introduce her to Bucky Barnes. They are waylaid by Tony, who has just escorted his date back to her seat.

“Did you just spend your inheritance on a _date_? With _Barnes?_ ”

Darcy grins. “Don’t be mad it wasn’t you, old man.” She sidesteps him to come face-to-face with the man himself. He looks even better on close inspection, giving Pepper a rueful smile before turning his attention to her.

“ _Gotta thank you for saving me back there, doll, but I won’t blame you if you want your trust fund back_.”

Darcy nearly drops her purse, hand going to her side. When she’s got her breath back, she looks up into concerned blue eyes.

“ _Yeah, I’m not returning you, handsome_.”

Worry morphs into wonder as she grasps the front of his shirt and drags him in for a kiss. There’s a shriek from the audience; somehow, that just makes everything better.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments? Questions? AU prompts? Let me know!
> 
> If you want a sneak peek ahead, my Spotify playlist is [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/1242842284/playlist/01T4M0ahybJPRfFxJgEQdX). Feel free to request a particular song or even suggest one for me to add to my list (but no guarantees). I've also put together a [masterlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1242842284/playlist/6WuYC2ANP0QBao3qX3HbfK%22) of all the songs I've used, though not all will be available in every country.
> 
> If you want to talk to me, come and drop by my [Tumblr](http://backwardsandinhighheels.tumblr.com). I promise I don't bite!


End file.
